Bruised, Not Broken
by Fairly Odd New Yorker
Summary: Imogen and Constance find themselves noticing one another in a way they haven't before. Coming to terms with these feelings prove to be more difficult than they could ever imagine ... HB/ID FEMSLASH, don't like it, don't read it.
1. The Stare

**(A/N)-** Sorry for my delays in other fanfics. This was an idea I just couldn't shake off. Might make it into a multi-chapter but my ideas for it, well ... the characters might get too OOC. ^^; We'll see ... I had meant for this to get posted on Halloween but was being horrible to me. Also, this involves lightly implied **femslash**, but it could be taken as a friendship fic between Drill and HB ... mehh, you be the judge. ;) This is an episode addition to **A Mean Halloween**. Enjoy!

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><p><strong>-The Stare-<strong>

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><p>"They're just young girls, Miss Hardbroom."<p>

"They are _not_ just young girls, Miss Drill, they are young witches -"

"Young witches, then," she corrected, "Who need guidance, your guidance, and they don't need to be ridiculed for every mistake ... you need to be patient with them."

Constance remained silent, seated bolt upright in her usual chair in the staffroom, eyes locked on her folded hands upon the faded blue tablecloth.

"You were a young witch once too, you know." Imogen added as an afterthought, causing the witch to snap her head up and glare intensely at her, but the glare was not received as the sports mistress turned her head and left silently.

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><p>Constance refused to say it, but she took Imogen's words to heart. She tried, really she did. It took a certain level of control, but she managed to keep control of the girls without having to shout at and threaten them. Most of all, she felt she was finally getting through to Mildred Hubble, the worst witch of them all. Mildred had managed to successfully concoct a voice-changing potion. Seeing this as a sign she had turned over a new leaf, she took a gamble and allowed Mildred to keep the role of Lucy Fairweather in the Halloween presentation for the Grand Wizard.<p>

As the presentation neared, however, she'd begun to get anxious and nervous. If Mildred failed, it wouldn't only be Mildred's fault, but Constance's fault as well. She knew how the girl was, and she was putting the reputation of the entire school at risk by allowing her to go through with it.

"Miss Hardbroom!" a voice exclaimed, and she looked up into Imogen's bright smiling green eyes.

The smile faded instantly once she'd seen the look of dread in the deputy head's face, "You look pale. What's the matter?"

The potions mistress pursed her lips in annoyance, and stared forward, her eyes hidden from beneath her witch's hat, "Miss Drill, I _always_ look pale."

She felt the woman staring at her, and she looked up, brown eyes penetrating and causing the non-witch to immediately avert her gaze.

"What are you staring at?" she snapped impatiently.

"Nothing," Imogen murmured, shook her head, and left just as Miss Cackle entered.

"Ah, there you are, Constance!" she greeted cheerfully, "The girls are on their way down now ... have you seen Miss Bat?"

Constance looked questioningly to the stationary cupboard, and Amelia knocked on it gently, but the wailing from the hallway answered her question. Davina flew by in a flurry of black as she sang a terribly drawn-out version of Loreena McKennitt's 'All Souls Night'.

Constance let out a heavy sigh, muttering more to herself than the headmistress as she swept out of the room, "This is going to be a _long_ night."

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><p>"Come along, girls! Collect your brooms from the broom shed!" Constance called, her voice echoing up into the high ceiling of the main staircase. In that sentence, she regained her confidence, a little voice in her head calming her and telling her all would be fine. Mildred wouldn't mess this up, surely! She did practice, Constance had seen to that. She'd managed to fly her broomstick almost perfectly, although, it wasn't her broomstick, it had been a borrowed one from Maud whilst Ethel went to fetch her spare broom. It was Mildred's bent broom, not Mildred, that had been the cause behind her poor flying patterns. All would go well tonight, all would go well ...<p>

The sound of whirring wheels distracted Constance momentarily, and she looked towards the sound to see Imogen wheeling up beside her with a confident grin.

"What's that you got there, Miss Drill?" Amelia inquired curiously.

"My new bicycle," she announced proudly, lifting it and pressing a button Constance couldn't see, causing the back wheel to fold up underneath the middle, making it smaller and more portable. She pretended not to notice the witch as she turned both heels to face her other two colleagues.

"You'll never catch me on one of those things," she said with the slightest hint of distaste, raising a brow at the broomsticks in their hands.

Constance fought back a grin. Too often she had seen the look of longing on the younger woman's face whenever they were flying high in the sky. Imogen was adventurous by nature, after all. She thought it completely ridiculous for her to think that they would believe she never dreamt of flying one herself.

"It's all a matter of practice," Amelia said with a cheery grin.

Constance watched the non-witch, hoping her staring would cause her to meet her eyes, but she didn't. She enjoyed challenging the woman. And for the first time since her employment here at Cackle's Academy, Imogen wasn't rising up to the challenge. For once, she seemed uneasy, afraid to meet the older woman's stare. Constance was thoroughly amused, and tried hard not to show it.

"Which reminds me, Miss Hardbroom," Amelia said, causing her to tear her gaze away from the non-witch, "How's the presentation piece?"

Feeling Miss Drill's eyes upon her, she could not hide her amusement, "I don't like to make predictions, Miss Cackle, not even on Halloween, but I think we might all be due for a very pleasant surprise."

She allowed a smile, and glanced over at Imogen, who immediately looked towards the girls as they marched down the steps, all donned in their traditional witchy clothes.

Constance had half a mind to address Imogen's strange behavior, but as the others did not seem to take notice of it, she decided to ignore her, staring straight ahead, her lips pursed in a concentrated stare. As she did so, she could feel the non-witch's eyes watching her.

Her keen ears picked up on several comments the girls were making on the stairs about her appearance, and in those remarks, she snapped, her black hair whipping wildly about her face as she glared immensely up at Mildred and her gang.

"Will you girls hurry up!" she shouted in her usual voice, the one she hadn't used for a while now.

She hadn't used it in so long that Amelia and Davina jumped slightly at the sound of her voice. Imogen just rolled her eyes.

Constance swept past, her back to the blonde as she informed the headmistress, calmly as ever, "That is everyone, Miss Cackle."

She followed Amelia and Davina out, pretending for a brief moment that the irritating non-witch was not accompanying them this evening, but the steady whirring of gears behind her as she stepped out of the castle walls reminded her otherwise.

And she could _still_ feel those green eyes piercing into her!

Constance stopped short, almost causing Imogen to run right into her, but luckily she had great reflexes and she managed to stop just a hair from treading her bike on her long black cloak.

"Is something the matter, Miss Drill?" she hissed, her teeth baring slightly as she stared menacingly at her.

For the first time that evening, Imogen returned the stare.

"No, why do you ask?" she replied innocently.

"You've been staring at me for the past fifteen minutes or so," she sneered. Imogen opened her mouth to protest, and she cut her off, "Don't think I haven't noticed, you've been gawping at me every time I look away!"

"Y-your hair ..." Imogen managed quietly, rather nervously. A blush crossed her features.

Constance was taken off guard, "What of it?" she demanded.

"It looks nice like that," she said, the blush deepening as she added, barely over a whisper, "Beautiful, even."

Constance felt herself blush, but she let her voice suggest she was anything but embarrassed as she snapped sarcastically, "I know. It's miraculous, isn't it? So I've been looking awful up until now, is that it?"

"No!" she shot back, slightly angry with her, but her gaze fell to her feet as she leaned against her bike slightly, gripping the handlebars tighter as she spoke, "You've always been beautiful, I just think you should wear your hair down more often."

She said this sentence so hurriedly that Constance could scarcely believe she'd heard her correctly. Before she could fully register what the annoying little woman had said to her, another annoying little woman flounced up beside her, looking incredibly giddy.

"_See_, Constance? I've been telling you this for years, and you never believed me! Imogen- together, I bet we could get her to wear it down year round!"

"Davina," she addressed dangerously, "How many times must I tell you? I will say it again because Imogen appears to be just as daft as you are!" Imogen was slightly hurt at this remark, but a feeling of joy stirred pleasantly in her heart as she realized the formidable potions mistress had just addressed her by her first name, as she had so often insisted she should.

"I cannot wear my hair down because of my profession. Imagine the dangers long hair would pose in a potions laboratory! I don't wear it this way to be _weird_ or _prudish_, I do it for safety reasons!"

"Well you don't teach class twenty-four-seven," Imogen reminded, feeling a lot less uncomfortable now that Davina had jumped in to the conversation.

Constance's deep brown eyes penetrated hers, but she did not falter, "You could always wear it down when not in class."

"Excellent idea!" Davina approved, clapping happily, "That way everyone wins!" she danced off to her spot by Amelia, feeling extremely pleased with herself.

Constance stared at Imogen a moment longer as her previous words finally sinked in ... did she really think she was beautiful? She'd always thought the non-witch hated her ... then again, Imogen only hated her because she had always behaved prejudiced towards her. Lack of magick in a witch school, that alone was ridiculous. But to teach a class that did not require magick as well, in a witch school ... well, the idea alone was maddening. And the fact that she did so and got away with it, well, that had always infuriated the witch.

But now, she found herself looking upon the blonde with new eyes, as if she had only just realized her.

Imogen just offered an encouraging smile, daringly patting the taller woman on the arm, "Good luck with the presentation," she said cheerfully, and wheeled past her, pushing herself upright on the pedal and swinging her other leg over before pedaling away.

"Thank you ..." Constance found herself saying quietly to no one. She shook her head slightly, trying to forget these thoughts at least until after the presentation and yet ... she could not shake the thought of that infuriating woman from her mind.

And she could still feel her gentle touch on her arm ...

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><p>Constance soared high above the treetops, her brown eyes unwisely scanning the ground below instead of the sky ahead as she looked for the sports mistress.<p>

It didn't take long- she was easy to spot in her bright blue jumper. She had stopped a moment before entering the wood, watching as her students and colleagues made their way to the ceremony.

She waved up at them, though only a few girls noticed and returned the gesture. Even from that altitude, Constance could still feel those green eyes watching her.

She shivered slightly, and looked back up to the sky, loudly reminding the girls to watch where they were flying.

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><p><strong>(AN)-** Please review! Let me know what you think! :)


	2. New Heights

**(A/N)-** Trying to think of a better name for this fic. Here's the second part. Going to have several more. Enjoy! And if you like it please review! Thank you so much LongVodka for being my sole reviewer! LOL! I know I'm asking for it continuing a fic that just got one review, but what the hell - I'm having fun with this one.

Please note that this has **implied femslash** and is **not beta'd** and the end was finished up around 3 am so any spelling errors or stupidness please forgive!

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><p><strong>- New Heights -<strong>

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><p>"You should've let me do the presentation," Davina murmured to Constance as they headed out towards the clearing to mount their brooms.<p>

Constance didn't respond, she just stared icily back, lips pursed.

The presentation had been a disaster. The reputation of Cackles' Academy lay in shambles. Constance, more than anyone present, was very furious with Mildred, so furious in fact that she hadn't said a single word to reprimand the hopeless girl. So furious, she couldn't even find the words to express her deepest apologies to Miss Cackle, let alone the Grand Wizard.

"Davina," Imogen called quietly, causing the old witch to look over at her.

"_Don't_."

"But I was just-"

"I know," Imogen replied, "Not now." Her green eyes met Constance's for a fleeting moment, and in that moment she could've sworn that she appeared somewhat appreciative of the non-witch.

"Want me to fly you back, dear?" Davina asked quietly in a feeble attempt to prevent Constance from overhearing her offer.

"No thanks, I've got my bike."

"Are you sure?"

"I'll be fine, Davina, really ..."

"Miss Bat," Constance snapped irritably, "Shouldn't you be leading the girls with Miss Cackle?" She raised a finely arched brow at her. Davina scowled at her a moment before patting the gym mistress on the arm, "See you later, have a pleasant trip!" she whispered, before making her way to the front of the group as quickly as she could.

Imogen glanced down at her bike beside her as she walked along, gripping the handlebars briefly as she tried to focus her attention away from the witch beside her as they swept through the deep patches of dry leaves. She wondered if she should just hop on her bike and take off for the school without them. It would be rude somehow, but she could always make an excuse that she wanted to catch up on sleep. What she really wanted to do was to find those suspicious-looking witches she'd spotted earlier in the wood. What were they up to? And should she warn her colleagues about it? Perhaps she was only making a mountain out of a molehill ... perhaps it was nothing to worry about. It was Halloween, after all. Plenty of witches about.

"It would be safer if you flew with us," Constance said suddenly, snapping her out of her thoughts.

"Huh?"

"It's much too dark to be riding a bicycle. Rather unsafe, don't you think?"

"And teetering on a broomstick in midair, that's safer is it?" she asked sarcastically, but was only met with a serious glare.

"Afraid of heights now, are you?" she asked teasingly, "And here I thought you were our sports mistress!"

"I'm not afraid of heights," she retorted calmly, "It's the thought of being suspended in midair without much to hold on to that irks me."

"Magick, Miss Drill," Constance reminded, "That's what keeps us from falling to our deaths."

"Yes, and I'm not a witch, so I'll surely die."

Constance snatched hold of her handlebar, stopping Imogen before she could take off into the night. The action made them incredibly close to one another, but Constance did not falter. She simply stared intensely back into her green eyes.

"I won't let you."

"Pardon?"

"Die, I mean. You won't fall. I won't allow it."

Imogen was momentarily touched, but she shook the feeling off, "Guess I should catch up with Davina then ..."

"No, you'll definitely fall if you fly with her as her broom's about as old as she is," she brushed off carelessly, "No, you'll fly with me," she said sternly and casually as if she was asking the most ordinary of things, as if the two had never fought in their lives or had a single reason to not be in such close proximity to one another.

"Are you sure?" Imogen asked in a small voice, immediately wishing she hadn't asked that lest she think it over, so she asked another question, "What about my bike?"

The witch carelessly pointed her spell-casting fingers at the bike, causing Imogen to jump and drop it as she zapped it, making it shrink down to the size of teacup. Imogen knelt down and picked it up, holding it in the palm of her hand as she hid her amusement with a sigh, "Of course." She pocketed her miniature bike and looked over at the witch, catching the faintest hint of a smile before she continued on her way, swiftly catching up with the group.

They finally arrived in the clearing, and they all mounted their brooms. Constance perched elegantly on hers, hovering in midair, and for a brief moment Imogen thought this was some sort of trick, that the witch was going to take off without her. "Are you coming or what?" she snapped in her usual manner, causing her to jump slightly. She couldn't shake off the feeling that the witch wasn't really angry with her, that she was probably just playing with her ... gods ... the thought of that woman being playful with anyone! She could only find it conceivable in a mean sort of way. She decided Constance was just being snippy because she was still upset about the presentation going to hell.

Imogen let out a restless breath and awkwardly hopped up beside Constance, sitting near the top of the broom as the witch indicated, and as soon as she sat down she felt her entire body begin to slip backwards. She would've fallen if the witch hadn't grabbed her, her warm cloaked arm wrapping around her waist.

"You'll have to lean into my shoulder a bit to keep balance. Don't sit facing forward; lean sideways with your knees bent, looking in the direction we're flying."

She wanted to remind the woman that she'd overheard her give flying lessons to the first years for two years now, but she felt mentioning it would just make her sound like she was looking for a fight. Besides, she seemed to lose the ability to string two words together, let alone an entire sentence.

"Keep both hands grasped on the broomstick," she ordered sternly, her warm breath tickling the younger woman's ear, sending pleasant goosebumps down her spine. "Any questions?"

Imogen opened her mouth to say something, but resolved to simply shake her head as she looked at the ground below, trying to mentally prepare herself for how far down it was going to look within the next couple of seconds.

"Hold on tight," she breathed in her ear once more.

The next thing she knew, they were ascending steadily into the sky, the ground below her getting further and further away. Imogen gulped, and averted her gaze to the skies, but the sight of the open air only made her more uneasy. She squeezed her eyes shut a moment, her grip tightening on the broomstick. She slid slightly down the broom as it tilted upwards, and she fell into Constance. The witch didn't budge, nor did she snap at her for it. In fact, she instead leaned into her, and Imogen felt that she was just as much Constance's anchor as Constance was hers.

Imogen tried very hard to ignore their closeness, reminding herself that she was a non-witch and would never be good enough for Constance even if she had any interest in her whatsoever ... she looked up in the direction they were flying, but the sight of Constance's pale hand near the top of the broomstick kept catching her eye and she found herself looking at it instead. Her tan hand was beside it, and even though she was gripping the broom so hard it made her knuckles white, she still looked very dark in contrast with the witch's off-white skin. She wondered how it would feel against her own skin, if it was indeed always as cold as it looked ...

She shook her head slightly, trying to clear her head. Stupidly, in her frantic attempt to get her mind off of her colleague, she wound up looking down at the forest below. For a fleeting moment, it made her slightly dizzy and a shiver of fear swept through her, but then she remembered those suspicious looking witches she'd seen in the wood earlier. Perhaps she could catch a glimpse of them ...

Her green eyes scanned the landscape, and in her concentration, she didn't seem to notice she'd loosened her grip. All it took was for her to loosen it slightly, and she fell forward. A barely audible cry escaped her throat and she gripped it tightly again, but not before Constance threw her other arm across her middle, stopping her fall and bringing her into a sort of odd embrace.

She expected the woman to yell at her, and she wouldn't blame her from doing so. She didn't yell, but she wasn't pleased with her either. Against the whipping wind, she hissed into her ear, "You're going to get us killed!" followed by a slightly gentler tone laced with concern more than anything, "Just don't look down."

"Sorry," Imogen answered, her heart pounding madly in her chest. It took her a couple more seconds before she realized the witch's hand was tightly over her own, and as soon as she saw this, Constance released her, resuming her original position at the top of the handle. Imogen couldn't help the blush that crossed her features.

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><p>It wasn't long after till they landed in the castle courtyard. Imogen, eager to have both feet back on the ground, jumped off the broom at a greater height than normally deemed safe, earning a shout from Constance, which she ignored. She thought the woman was coming over to berate her some more, but she swept past her, making a beeline for Amelia as she ordered the girls to put their brooms away and head straight to bed.<p>

Imogen suddenly remembered something ... fumbling around in her coat pocket, she jogged up to the castle doors, "Miss Hardbroom!" she called, careful to use formalities for she knew even Amelia didn't always address her by her first name.

The witch's intense brown eyes locked on hers, almost threateningly, as she approached. Any kindness Imogen may have felt she received earlier vanished within an instant. Constance said nothing, she just stared her down, lips pursed in irritation. Imogen offered a meek smile, which of course was not returned, and held out her shrunken bicycle in the palm of her hand.

"Could you -?"

The potions mistress zapped her magickal fingers at the bike in a flash of blue light, causing it to resume it's normal size rather abruptly, catching Imogen off guard as the bike that was once in her hands was now overbearing in her arms. She awkwardly set it to the ground, and shot an annoyed look at the brunette, who appeared amused with herself.

"Off to bed now, girls, classes start after lunch!" Miss Cackle ordered, her humiliation no longer apparent and now it had been replaced with anger that could match Miss Hardbroom's even on her worst days.

The deputy head shouted for the rest of them to hurry up as she clasped the doorknob, almost wordlessly threatening to leave them outside if they didn't hurry it up. Imogen waited too for them to pass, as it would be difficult to try and pull a bike through a crowd of tired young witches.

And so, Imogen was the last to enter the building. Really, the very last, for Constance had entered before her and let the door slam shut behind her. She hadn't locked it as well, thankfully, but it still left Imogen feeling even more ticked off at the witch than she already had been.

"Knew it wouldn't last," she muttered under her breath, wrenching the heavy door open and lugging her bike in behind her.

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><p><strong>(AN)** - Please review I will love you forever!


	3. The Touch

**(A/N)-** I am so sorry for the late update! Thank you so much to all who have reviewed, **LongVodka**, **Chrissiemusa**, **HB's Favourite**, **Sheep on springs**, **Kath Loren** and** Blondie47** - I am so sorry I didn't reply to you all individually, finals and everything have been consuming my life not to mention I'd lost the battle with depression a few days ago and gave in to a series of 'emo moments', ugh. I am back, stronger than ever, still struggling a bit but that's life. Constantly writing stories about love when you're not in love can really get to you sometimes. :P Anyway! Enough of that, on with the story!

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><p><strong>- The Touch -<strong>

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><p>"We're very disappointed in you. I hope you'll reflect on the damage you've done to the reputation of the school. Miss Hardbroom and I will see you in my office first thing this afternoon."<p>

"Yes Miss Cackle." Mildred replied quietly, and ascended the stairs.

Miss Hardbroom watched her, her lips pursed in annoyance and her eyes piercing, she too was very disappointed in her troublesome student but she couldn't help but feel a slight pang of guilt. It was Constance's choice, after all, to allow the girl to take part in the presentation. She thought she'd instilled _something_ in the girl, but it was the same old Mildred. She would never change.

The two watched the rest of the girls disappear into the upstairs hall. After they'd all gone, Amelia strode down the hall to her sleeping quarters, her deputy hurrying alongside her.

"Miss Cackle, I can explain-"

"Not _now_, Constance!" she snapped, and did not bother to explain further. The sharpness in her tone stopped the potions mistress in her tracks, and she stared blankly after her, feeling as if her entire world had come crashing down around her. Amelia never spoke to her like that. _Ever._

The steady ticking of Imogen's bike approached her and pulled up beside her, but she took no notice as she stared after her superior, lips pursed as she pulled herself together.

"Constance?" Imogen asked, and she looked over at her blankly, as if she wasn't fully aware she was there.

"Are you alright?"

Her brown eyes looked to the floor, and she faced forward, "Who has 'lights out' tonight?"

"I do."

"I'll take over instead, if you don't mind." She said quietly, her eyes flickering to her briefly, but she remained faced forward.

"Are you sure?"

"You'll need your rest, classes start after lunch."

"And what about you?" Imogen asked, but Constance turned and swept out of the entrance hall and down the corridor towards the potions lab.

"Constance?"

"Goodnight, Miss Drill," she replied as sternly as ever before shutting herself up inside her classroom.

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><p><em>'Too much happened tonight',<em> she thought irritably to herself, though really not much had happened at all, except for the presentation going to hell. And Imogen being too up front with her ... _why_ did she have to call frigid old HB beautiful?

_'She didn't call _**me**_ beautiful, she called my hair beautiful, there's a difference.'_ she insisted inwardly to herself, tucking a strand behind her ear. The action made her realize her witch's hat was still on, and she pulled it off in annoyance, sitting it atop a vacant stool beside her desk. She stood there before a bubbling cauldron, knowing that it would be hours before the concoction was finished but she found it relaxing to stare into the green and murky depths ... not unlike the color of a certain non-witch's eyes.

She inwardly cursed her thoughts for straying to the blonde yet again. Squeezing her eyes shut in annoyance, she leant briefly on her desk, digging the heels of her hands into the hard wood as she stretched her sore back. Perhaps she did need sleep, after all. Maybe she should give it a try, instead of standing before a fast-asleep potion for a couple of hours. Fast-asleep _indeed_! She'd surely pass out on the stone floor before it was complete!

A faint knocking at the door brought her to her senses, and she stood upright, her heart quickening as Imogen peered into the room. She excused this to herself as a normal reaction, for sometimes she felt as if people could hear what she was thinking but Imogen was a non-witch so she needn't worry about such a ridiculous notion ...

"Can I come in?" she asked meekly, remaining in the doorway with hopeful eyes, entering only when Constance gave a short nod, pretending to look annoyed with a roll of her eyes.

And yet she couldn't shake off the possibility that she could be dreaming as Imogen sat before her at the edge of one of the students' tables. She gazed back at her through the dark, the only light in the room coming from the open flame beneath the cauldron, the moonlight outside dimmed by a passing cloud.

A smile began to play about the younger woman's lips, and Constance felt the strange urge to return it but she resisted.

"What are you smiling at?" she snapped in annoyance as she dropped her spoon in the cauldron at the appropriate time and made it stir the potion with a casual wave of her hand.

"Nothing," she replied shyly, chewing her lip nervously, "It's just you said you couldn't wear your hair down while you mixed potions but … here you are."

Constance blushed, grateful it wasn't apparent in the darkness, "I wear it down on my own time because I'm careful enough to avoid any mishaps," she explained in a huff, "but if it bothers you …"

Imogen reached forward and took the taller woman's wrists in her hands as she held them at eye-level, fingers casting a spell to turn it into a bun, but the sudden contact made her stop in the middle of it and she punished the blonde for it with a menacing glare.

"Don't," Imogen breathed, "It doesn't bother me. Like I said, it's beautiful," she murmured, releasing her grip as she plopped herself back against the desk, looking ashamed of herself. The sudden force of weight caused the desk to skid back a few centimeters, and she stood back up in surprise, startled and embarrassed.

Constance couldn't hide the small grin of amusement that crossed her features, but it disappeared as quickly as it happened, "You shouldn't grab someone like that whilst they're in the middle of casting. It's dangerous."

"How do you mean?" she asked, curiosity piqued. Although Imogen always prided herself on having no magick, she always showed a lot of interest in anything pertaining to it whenever someone gave the time to explain something to her. And Constance was always too eager to share her knowledge.

"Magick isn't just in the blood, it surrounds us witches," she said, "It can sometimes act defensively even when not intended to. Anything can set it off, like an unwelcome touch …" she drifted off, feeling embarrassed because her magick had obviously not harmed the non-witch so the contact was indeed welcome. Imogen didn't manage to put two and two together, thankfully. Actually, she looked rather hurt.

"I'm sorry, I know I'm not wanted here, so I'll be quick …"

"Imogen …" she began to apologize, but it fell on deaf ears.

"I just wanted to say that tonight wasn't your fault, it wasn't anyone's fault. Accidents happen, and … quite honestly, it could've been worse."

"How?" she asked, raising a brow.

Imogen shrugged, folding her arms into her blue jumper, "Someone could've _died_, for a start …"

But Constance couldn't think tonight could've gone any worse, and no one, not even Imogen, could convince her otherwise. The humiliation was still there no matter what.

She brought her hands to her hair once more in an attempt to restore it to it's traditional bun, but Imogen's soft voice distracted her.

"Don't."

Constance sighed, her arms dropping to her sides, "I'm a _mess_, Imogen, it needs to be up or down, there is _no_ in-between."

Imogen sighed as she got to her feet and walked around to the other side of the desk. Now nothing was between them, and Constance felt threatened. She hoped Imogen wouldn't touch her lest she unintentionally harm her with her magick, but as soon as the thought came to her mind the blonde had reached up and touched her atop her head, sending shivers down her spine.

Each touch seemed to leave a burning sensation as she gently patted down the hair that threatened to come loose atop her head. Constance opened her mouth to protest, but her breath seemed to be caught in her throat, and the next movement made her blush profusely - Imogen had dared to run her hands through her long raven locks, making it so Constance's hair parted on either side of her and ran down the front of her body, covering her breasts.

Constance suddenly felt cheated. The younger woman had been marveling at her hair all evening and had gotten a chance to touch it without even asking permission! She got what she wanted ... where did that leave Constance? She wanted something from her as well ... but she wasn't quite sure _what_.

Imogen stepped back to admire her handiwork with an impish grin - that infuriating grin of hers. Constance watched her in the darkness like a deer caught in headlights. She had no idea what possessed the woman to approach her like that, let alone _touch_ her. She supposed her boldness came from the return flight; Constance had a feeling there'd be a price to pay for allowing them to be in a situation where their bodies were required to be extremely close. She only assumed she'd be doing harm unto herself - something about heights always made her feel worry-free. Up there, she had half a mind to kiss Imogen's exposed neck without fear of consequences. Back on the ground, she realized it would've been a very forward and very stupid thing to do. But now ...

Imogen's smile faded, looking up at her innocently with those pale green eyes as she returned her arms to her sides. Constance wanted to reach out and take her hands in hers, the urge was there, it pulled at her very being. Every ounce of her body suddenly wanted to touch her, to feel her under her skin ... it wasn't so much sexual as it was simply a moment to feel real. She never touched anyone, and if it was it was usually a light pat through material, never skin-on-skin contact. After the hell she'd been through tonight, she just wanted a small reminder that she was still here. It was ridiculous, she knew it. But she wanted it.

Somehow her hand had found Imogen's as it half-rested on the side of the desk. Imogen too seemed surprised at the touch, jumping slightly and looking down at her pale hand contrasting with her tan skin, even in the dark the difference was obvious. Constance expected her to pull away, but she didn't. Imogen froze a moment before taking her hand in hers, her surprisingly soft skin running across her nicks and scars. Constance inwardly prayed that she wouldn't notice them, not _now_ ... and she didn't.

Imogen's green eyes looked back up into the witch's warm brown eyes, and she let out a shaky breath.

"I should go," she managed to say, and the words cut through Constance like a knife.

Determined not to allow the hurt to be evident in her eyes, she slipped her hand out of her grasp with a short nod, turning back to her potion. She hoped that her face was semi-hidden by her long hair as she focused her gaze on the bubbling green liquid, which was now turning to the color of it's next phase, a sickly gray. The wooden spoon she'd enchanted had lost it's spark some time since she'd last looked at it, and the bubbles rocked it steadily as it lay dead in the pot.

"I'll check on the girls for you, before I turn in for the night ..." Imogen said, her voice starting off like she was addressing the woman on any normal day, but it ended in a sort of mumble.

Constance didn't answer, she didn't even nod. She just stood there, hands clenching the side of her desk as she focused her eyes on the potion as if it required full-on eye contact in order to brew.

She didn't look up until a little while after the non-witch left the classroom, closing the door quietly behind her. She released the breath she'd been holding and relaxed her tensed-up muscles.

"Nothing happened," she assured herself quietly, absentmindedly stroking the 'beautiful' hair that had gotten her into this mess. She tried to insist it to herself that nothing went on just now ... But no matter what excuse she made, she couldn't deny it.

_Something_ happened.

But it needn't be acted upon, it wasn't proper. Not only were they two women, but they were two women teaching at an all girls' school! Not only that, she was a non-witch! It was heresy! She'd be accused of casting a spell on her or something, and she'd be put on trial and possibly lose all her magick on account of it.

No. It simply wasn't worth it, not for Imogen or for anyone. Magick was her everything. Without it, she was nothing, just a no-nonsense teacher whom everyone despised. She'd trained for too long and too hard to give it all up for the love of a woman who couldn't possibly love her back, not after all the hell she'd given her for her entire first year of teaching. They _never_ got along before tonight, and Halloween had always brought out a certain boldness in Constance that she didn't carry with her for the rest of the year, a boldness that had caused trouble in the past, especially when it came to love ...

She pulled the spoon from the boiling liquid and slammed it down onto the table, not caring that it had splattered some of the potion across her mortar and pestle. By the look of the potion, it would be another hour before it was completed. Giving up and giving in, she zapped it with her magick and made it ready now, knowing full well that in doing so she was risking a bad night's sleep, possibly fragmented and so deep she wouldn't wake to the normal sound she usually did but she did not care. Anything was better than being awake and in the presence of Miss Drill.

She checked the clock on the wall. Was it really already three in the morning? She looked outside to see that the sky had lightened up a bit as it prepared for the eventual rising of the sun. Sighing deeply, she filled a small shot glass with the fast-asleep potion and downed it in one gulp, gagging afterwards at it's awful taste. That was one of the many bad side-effects of sleep aids, an awful taste that took a while to leave your mouth.

Well, at least it was another reason to not kiss Imogen.

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><p><strong>(AN) -** Well? Good? Bad? I'd rewritten it several times and almost gave up. I'm just sorry it isn't longer - the next scene was supposed to be brief but it was running on into a scene from the show and I just gave up and called it a night. Anyways, review! :D They really make my day - it's what I live for! The next chapter will be up ASAP.


	4. The Disruption

**(A/N)**- Sorry for the late update! And sorry this is rather short ... this was the 'bump in the road', over-thinking made it unreasonably difficult, many thanks go to **LongVodka** for her advice, as well as suggestion for Constance's little bit in this. Many thanks to everyone who has reviewed thus far, next chapter should be up ASAP because I've had it in my mind forevers and it will most definitely be worth it, trust me. ;D

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><p><strong>-The Disruption -<strong>

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><p>Imogen slammed the staffroom door shut behind her, and strode briskly down the hallway, her fists clenched.<p>

How could Constance do that to her? Dismiss her concerns as if she was a child talking about the possibility of bogeymen! The nerve of her! And after what they'd been through …

"I deserved it," Imogen muttered angrily to herself as she entered the inner courtyard, her thoughts drifting to their little moment together, how wonderful and soft the older woman's hands felt upon hers … if only the witch knew how much it tore the blonde up inside as she pulled away. She had to. It was inappropriate. There was simply no way they could be in a relationship, not with eyes all around the school! It'd be a scandal! If anything, Constance should've been grateful for Imogen's actions. Surely reason had settled into her mind by now, if things had gone further than just the touch … well, it would've been harder for them both to simply deny anything had happened and move on.

Still, Imogen wished she had at least apologized to Constance. After all, she was the one who came wandering into the potions lab in the middle of the night.

She sighed as she pulled her bike upright, adjusting the handlebars.

"Miss Drill," Amelia's voice called from down the corridor as she approached swiftly as possible, looking guilty, "I hope you're not too upset. Miss Hardbroom was only teasing, all in good fun. I'm sure she didn't mean to upset you."

"I don't think the words 'Miss Hardbroom' and 'fun' can be strung together in the same sentence," she seethed, "At least not without the word 'not' in between them." She muttered as an afterthought.

"She's got a lot on her mind right now," she reasoned, looking guilty for speaking about her deputy, "After all, she's the one who casted Mildred in the play. She was so upset about it, she wanted to resign."

Imogen's eyebrows rose in surprise, and she looked up only to meet the ashamed face of her headmistress, "Don't tell her I told you."

"She's not really resigning, is she?" she asked, genuine concern in her voice.

"No of course not," Amelia replied, shaking her head in slight annoyance, "She was being dramatic. Don't tell her I said that, either."

A smirk pulled at Imogen's lips, and she continued to fuss with her bike. She had a feeling that Amelia was only being so free with her words because Constance had apparently just consumed herbal tea meant to induce sleep, and therefore her usual alertness to the sound of her name on someone else's lips would be lessened to a certain degree. She did look rather sleepy when she'd told her off about the witches in the woods; perhaps Imogen would just brush her hurtful words off on account of the witch's lack of proper sleep.

Imogen also wondered if Amelia was being so free with her words because she might've taken a sip or two of the tea - from the amount of powder she'd seen Davina shoveling in, it looked like enough to knock out an elephant.

"Can you forgive us?" Amelia asked hopefully.

"It's all right," she assured, pulling her bike up and releasing the screws which kept it compact "I'll get over it. It's not the first time she's humiliated me in front of the entire staff, and it certainly won't be the last."

"Please don't take offense, Miss Drill. It's been a dreadful night. We're all on edge."

"It's not easy sometimes, Miss Cackle … being the only non-witch on the staff," Imogen admitted as she pulled her bike out and popped it up into its intended form.

"We do value you, Miss Drill, and so do the girls. We, all of us, have our special part to play in the life of the school."

"Well, mine seems to be gooseberry." Imogen said truthfully.

Whether Constance meant to be mean to her before or not, she knew that being a non-witch put her beneath everyone else. Her words were meaningless, and so was her position here. She loved teaching, but this was a witch school. Granted, she'd been given the job regardless of the lack of magic in her blood, but still her being here sometimes seemed downright ridiculous.

She pedaled off into the woods, far from the school and all the witches in it. She knew she was heading into danger (if the witches she'd seen last night were still around and did indeed intend to do them harm) but none of it mattered to her as she sped off. She needed to get to the bottom of this, once and for all.

* * *

><p>Constance was not blessed with a vivid imagination, and therefore, her dreams were often one of three things. The first, it was usually a dream, more often than not, a nightmare, of a distant memory. The second, it was sometimes a prophecy of things to come, a rare occurrence within itself but it happened once or twice, when she did in fact sleep. The third happened more than the rest. It could be considered by far the only stroke of creativeness in the potions mistress's life. She dreamed of what could have been. It was not so much a prophecy, and it did not always happen just in sleep. She daydreamed of it as well. It only happened when she had a particular moment in her life which she had wished would have turned out for the better.<p>

Tonight, (or this morning, to be precise) she was dreaming of her little moment with Imogen Drill in the potions lab, and how she would have liked it to happen.

She pulled Imogen's hand back before she could leave, and silently begged her with her eyes not to go, and, perhaps by witchcraft or something more, Imogen stayed. Constance carefully neared the younger woman, closing the space between them ever so slightly, as if she feared a sudden movement might scare the non-witch off. Her heart was beating so fast that the same might be done to her if Imogen moved too quickly, but she wasn't moving at all. She just stood there, frozen, her green eyes glistening in the pale moonlight as she awaited the witch's next move.

Slowly, Constance reached her hand up, her fingertips brushing her cheek as she drew closer, leaning in to kiss her...

_"Miss Hardbroom!"_

Both teachers instantly flew apart, looking to the classroom door in horror, the sudden fear of being caught with the woman in such close proximity had sent the poor witch's heart racing at the speed only matched by the sight or mentioning of her old tutor.

_"Miss Hardbroom!"_ the voice shouted again.

_"Oh, there's no use, Millie! Let's just deal with them ourselves!"_

Constance awakened almost immediately, her head throbbing painfully from the effects of the potion she'd taken last night along with the herbal tea she'd had this morning. She sat bolt upright, which only sent a shock to her system, and it caused her to let out a soft cry of anguish, which was acknowledged by her cat Morgana, who immediately leapt up into bed beside her and rubbed against her arm lovingly.

She acknowledged her familiar instinctively, stroking the feline along her spine once before tossing the covers aside and pulling her legs over the side of the bed. Her dream rushed back to her almost immediately, and she scowled to herself in annoyance as she realized it had been rudely interrupted. Sure, a romantic situation like that could never truly happen between her and Miss Drill - but she should've at _least_ been allowed to live it in her dreams! Surely that alone would suffice!

She stood to her full height, her warm bare feet chilling almost instantly on the frozen floor, but she took no notice. The girls who awakened her from her slumber would surely pay ... her face frozen in a serious glare, she whipped her spell-casting fingers up and pulled her hair out of the way Drill had arranged it, tying it tight into one long ponytail.

She meant to enchant her 'beautiful' hair to braid itself, but a loud howling from the potions lab snapped her out of her intense concentration, and she left it that way, not bothering to change into her normal clothes just yet. After all, she needed to make it more obvious to the girls who'd been causing mischief that they had just awakened their deputy-headmistress out of a deep sleep and that they should expect to pay with their lives ... well, maybe not to _that_ extreme, but they would certainly receive the worst punishment of their entire stay here at Cackle's Academy.

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><p>For once, Imogen Drill wished it had only been her imagination running away with her. The sight of poor Mildred being circled by those awful old hags ... she'd overheard their plans, how they wanted to turn everyone in the school into frogs. She suddenly felt awful, for she should've been worried about all her students and instead she feared for Constance's wellbeing. Imagine, worrying about the one witch who could easily blast them all to kingdom come!<p>

She wouldn't have been so worried though, had she not known her colleagues drank herbal tea to help them sleep. Miss Cackle was the only one awake, but she had drank a little as well, and she was currently holed up in her office, fussing over an apology letter to the Grand Wizard.

The girls would surely wake easily when the witches attacked, but the majority of them would be powerless - she remembered Miss Cackle mentioning that they didn't learn battle magic until their fourth year, and there were only about fifteen fourth year students, all of them sleeping on the third floor of the castle in the far east wing - they'd be the last to hear about the ambush.

Imogen Drill found herself racing towards the castle as fast as her legs could carry her, having to abandon her portable bike due to a flat tire which seemed to happen out of the blue … She suddenly felt much like a knight in shining armor, dashing valiantly off to defeat a trio of dragons to save the princess. It was a ridiculous thought, but she supposed it wasn't far off from reality - much of the goings on in this place seemed like the makings of a fairy tale.

It wasn't long before she reached the courtyard gate, which had luckily been left open. She burst into the entrance hall and immediately came upon Constance, along with Mildred and Maud, but all she seemed to notice was Constance. Relief swept through her as she managed a smile.

"Miss Hardbroom!" she exclaimed in a breath as she came to a stop beside her. She put her hands on her hips as she inhaled a generous gulp of air before managing "You're not a frog, then," She smiled, half-dazed from the run, but was only met with a confused glare.

"No," she replied shortly, lips pursed.

Imogen's heart sank and her smile faded. Of course, very Constance-like response. Well, what did she expect?

Constance's brown eyes immediately returned to glare down upon her pupils, silently demanding an explanation.

"No," Mildred simply echoed, and then something occurred to her, her blue eyes went bright, "But I know who is!" and she sped off for Miss Cackle's office.

Constance seemed not to take Mildred seriously enough, for she took her sweet time and appeared almost reluctant to follow her. Instead, she watched as Imogen clutched her ribs in pain.

"Miss Drill?" Constance asked, in a tone that suggested impatience more than anything, "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing, just a cramp," she excused, straightening herself upright and heading for the office, "Miss Cackle-"

"Right," she suddenly took the initiative and rushed off to the headmistress's aid, cutting off Imogen as she went but the non-witch took no offense. She was too busy smiling like a fool, blissfully happy just knowing Constance hadn't been turned into a frog.

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><p><strong>(AN)** - It goes right into the time during Mildred's nap, so I'm not going to drag you through the rest of the episode if that's what you're thinking. ;P Reviews please! And be gentle, this chapter was an absolute PAIN.


	5. The Ambush

**(A/N)**- Thanks for all of your reviews, they truly mean a lot - I always go back and read them whenever I'm trying to get the courage to continue, and you don't know how much it means to me when they show up in my email! So please! Keep them coming! :D  
>This chapter has been in my head from the start, and I think I pulled it off rather well. Probably could've used a bit more detail, but I didn't want to overdo it and besides, we can get to so much more later. ;D ENJOY!<p>

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><p><strong>- The Ambush -<strong>

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><p>"It would appear that Miss Drill was right all along," Miss Cackle mused as she perched her reading glasses atop her head, having just finished writing her letter of apology to the Grand Wizard.<p>

Miss Hardbroom stood dutifully at her side, having left only to change into her normal clothes, her hair now bound high in it's usual bun. Her steely gaze was directed at the door, the slightest twitch of her eyelids the only sign that she had heard what her headmistress had said to her.

Amelia sighed, leaning back in her chair as she looked up at the younger witch, "You really ought to apologize to her."

"For _what_?" Constance snapped, looking incredulously down at her, "For not jumping to conclusions and going on a wild goose chase! It very well could've been nothing -"

"But it wasn't," Amelia replied calmly.

"Hardly the point!"

"Precisely the point," she said with a small smile, "We all need to apologize to her for not taking her seriously, but you especially -"

"Why me _especially_?" she sneered.

"Because, Constance, you mocked her in front of Davina and I."

"And you _both_ laughed, which makes you two just as guilty."

"Constance ..." Amelia warned, and the brunette sighed angrily, folding her arms tighter against her middle.

"Alright, I'll apologize!" she relented in a huff.

The room fell silent for a moment as Amelia played with the corner of the envelope, a small smile forming on her lips.

"Well?" she asked softly.

Constance rolled her eyes and shook her head slightly before reluctantly leaving the room to go find Imogen, "Only you, Amelia," she muttered in slight annoyance, shooting a brief glare at the older witch, who could only smile back in amusement.

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><p>Constance truly did feel guilty about the whole thing. If she'd have listened to Imogen, she wouldn't have put the entire school in jeopardy. Now she had an even heavier burden to bear, on top of choreographing and casting a failed school presentation. 'What next?' she thought irritably, as she stormed off to the sports shed.<p>

"Are you looking for Miss Drill?" Davina's voice called from down the hall, in the inner courtyard, where she had begun to arrange her assorted plants on a table she'd dragged out from somewhere.

Miss Hardbroom stopped, her hand on the outer courtyard door, and she approached the chanting teacher, arms folded tightly, her high-heeled shoes echoing on the stone floor.

"And just what do you think you're doing with those?" she asked dangerously, eying those disgustingly useless plants that Davina liked to keep at the school. Their numbers seemed to increase on a termly basis, and their whereabouts always varied - she seemed to find a new area for them to stay every other month or so. Right now, she'd found a new place - right outside Miss Hardbroom's potions classroom. What a wonderful distraction that would make for the girls!

"Miss Cackle said I could." Davina replied, as if she was a child that had just gone around one parent's back to ask the other.

"Well, when both Miss Cackle and I have classes filled with girls who'd been stung by bees, perhaps you'd like to personally explain to each and every parent why you saw fit to put them in such danger?"

Miss Bat's face fell, and she sighed, "I'll move them."

"I thought so," she replied, trying to hide her look of accomplishment, "Now, where is Miss Drill?"

"She went off into the woods, to fetch her bicycle," she replied, and Constance paled, "Apparently her tire had gone flat so she had to abandon it-"

"Where?" She cut her off, eyes suddenly wide with worry, "Beyond Walker's Gate?"

"I don't know exactly where, she didn't say ... is something wrong?"

"You should not have let her leave, Davina." She said icily, fists clenched, and she turned quickly, walking off to the woods as fast as she could. By broom, she wouldn't see well enough between the trees, (sure it was fall but all the leaves hadn't fallen yet) and if she tried to teleport there she was bound to get lost.

"What's wrong? Constance!" she called desperately, forcing the younger woman to stop.

"Nothing is wrong. Do not be alarmed - I will be back shortly."

"What about the girls?" she asked hysterically.

"What about them?" she asked in annoyance, anxious to get a move on, and then she remembered, "Miss Bat, you are not about to argue duties with me _now_!"

"But the girls -"

"Will be awakened in about an hour by me, and _yes_ I will be back before then," she replied calmly, and motioned to the witch's plants, "In the meantime you need to calm yourself down and move those plants elsewhere. I can tell from here that your unnecessary behavior is already causing them to wilt prematurely."

Davina gasped in horror, and immediately rushed over to fuss over her babies as Constance hastily rushed across the courtyard and out into the forest beyond.

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><p>"There you are!" Imogen said in a breath of relief.<p>

She knelt down and pulled her brand new bike up out of the mud and made feeble attempts to clean it up, "Sorry I had to toss you like that, it was an emergency," she said, feeling crazy for talking to her bike. She made a mental note to try and spend less of her spare time hanging around with Miss Bat.

'_Besides, now there's another teacher you'd much rather be spending time with!' _She rolled her eyes, brushing that ridiculous thought out of her mind.

She pulled her bike along through the dry leaves, crunching them under her sneakers as she went. The sounds of leaves rustling and crunching seemed to deafen her ears after a while, and she stopped suddenly, feeling as if it was much too noisy to be _just her_ that was causing it.

She looked about, half-expecting to see someone there, but there was no one. She was alone in the woods, in broad daylight ... the only sound she could hear now was the gentle flutter of the leaves in the trees along with the distant calls of various birds.

She sighed. Her imagination must really be running away with her lately. Perhaps she'd imagined everything she'd suspected about Constance, that deep look of longing in her eyes that night in the potions lab ... try as she might, she could not imagine that it was Constance who'd reached for her, and not the other way around. She'd felt those intense eyes flicker at her as Mildred told her heroic tale to Miss Cackle, how Mildred later expressed extreme gratitude to her for pulling her from the mud ... Mildred had meant only for Miss Drill to hear it, but she was certain Miss Hardbroom had heard it as well, for she'd given Imogen a small smile that came and went as quickly as the wind.

She brought her green eyes down from the clouds and back to the ground below her feet, mentally urging herself to remember that with Miss Hardbroom, there were always be subtle hints at things, and if she were to address any meaning behind such actions, she'd only be digging her own grave for Constance could quite easily deny it all, making her think it was all in her head.

Keeping her eyes glued at the ground, she headed back along the path to Cackles. She wasn't really paying attention to where she was going, following the trail only by instinct.

It all happened so quick - her bike wheel ran straight into the heel of someone, and she damn near stumbled completely onto the person, who shoved her back with amused laughter.

She recognized that laughter, and her blood ran cold as she realized she was face to face with Amelia's twin sister Agatha, the witch they'd just banished moments earlier, along with her cohorts ... where were they?

She soon found out as she backed up right into them, and was pushed from behind. Normally she wouldn't be shoved about so easily, but she was in so much shock that she didn't know how to react, if she could even react in a way that would save herself. She caught herself before she fell back into Agatha again, the sounds of their laughter filling her ears.

"W-what do you want?" she asked forcibly, trying to hide her fear. Her grip tightened on her handle bars as her mind momentarily left the situation - there was no way this was happening - Amelia banished them - they couldn't harm her, they'd be breaking the oath ... wouldn't they?

"Clumsy little non-witch, can you believe my sister hired this?" Agatha laughed.

"There's no place for a non-witch in a witch school," Coldstone seethed.

"I don't even think they'd notice if she just ... disappeared!" Bindweed teased, flinging her arm up in the air as if to cast a spell, causing Imogen to jump backwards instinctively, which only caused them to erupt into laughter once more.

"Believe me, they'd notice!" Imogen retorted, determined to stand her ground even though she knew she was outnumbered and in way over her head.

"Of _course_ they would, dearie," Agatha mocked, "But they'll get over it soon enough and replace you with a witch!"

"If they had some common sense, which they don't!" Bindweed argued.

"Just face it, non-witch," Agatha said seriously, her cold eyes enlarged by her horrible rounded spectacles, "You're worthless to them, you serve no purpose, why don't you just do them all a favor and quit?"

Imogen pulled her bike and trudged past them, her face expressionless as if she were made of stone, a tactic she'd picked up from Miss Hardbroom. If they knew she was afraid, they'd only terrorize her further. If only she could keep herself from shaking head to toe ...

"Where do you think you're going, non-witch?" Agatha laughed as she and her friends trailed after her.

"You're not going to get very far, not with that hunk of machinery!"

"Don't you dare walk off when I'm speaking to you!"

"We're talking to you, non-witch!"

A blast of red magick blinded Imogen suddenly, but it didn't come from behind her, it came from in front of her, and it passed clear over her head. She turned quickly and watched as it struck Agatha in the glasses, causing the bridge between her nose to break, and they fell pathetically into her open palms.

Imogen barely had time to turn back around when suddenly Constance Hardbroom was at her side, holding one arm protectively across her as if to shield her. She stared down the trio of witches, her face hardened.

"That was only a warning spell, Agatha," she thundered, her brown eyes livid, "Try something like that again, and I swear, I will not hesitate to strike you down on the spot."

"Are you threatening to kill me, Hardbroom?" she asked, outraged.

"A real witch doesn't cast spells at someone while their back is turned, nor do they attack someone who is incapable of performing magick."

"Who are you to say what a real witch does?" Bindweed asked, condescendingly, but Constance would not yield to their retorts.

"Let's settle this the traditional way," Agatha replied, nearing the two teachers. "I propose a duel."

Imogen could've laughed out loud - the woman could barely see five feet in front of her without her glasses!

"Certainly," Constance replied calmly, lips pursed, "But given the fact that you three have taken an oath to not retaliate, any spell you cast at me will only affect you tenfold. Therefore, to duel would be a very unwise decision on your part."

Coldstone tugged at her leader's sleeve insistently, "C'mon, Agatha, they're not worth it."

"What of the non-witch?" Agatha asked, pointing a gnarled finger over the potions mistress's shoulder at Imogen. The gesture caused Constance to tense up instinctively, she drew in a breath and grabbed the blonde's arm, pulling her closer to her back in a vain attempt to hide her.

"She is a valued member of staff. If you harm a single hair on her head, I can assure you that the oath will be the last thing you will need to worry about." She said seriously, her tone dangerous and deadly, "I will come after you myself."

Imogen blushed to herself, touched at the woman's words but at the same time, guilt swept through her for having put herself in such a situation where Constance would have to protect her like that.

"Let's go, Agatha," Bindweed said, nudging her friend, "I've had enough for one day."

Agatha gave in reluctantly, her squinting eyes falling on the non-witch once more, "We shall have our revenge in six months time! You've not heard the last of us!"

They disappeared in a puff of smoke, and the forest fell silent.

Constance turned to Imogen, infuriated as she trembled from head to toe in her boiling rage, fists clenched at her sides, "Imogen …" she began, but before she could reprimand the non-witch for going off into the woods all by herself, Imogen let her bike drop to the soft earth and threw her arms around the potions mistress's neck. She held her tightly, her face buried against the collar of her silk dress.

"Thank you," she mumbled against her.

Constance just stood there awkwardly for a moment, reluctantly allowing such close contact. She didn't know how to react to it, whether she should scold the younger woman for such an inappropriate display of gratitude, or if she should just return the embrace and pretend to think nothing of it.

Either way, Imogen showed no signs of letting her go any time soon.

"You should've told me you were going out into the woods," she said gently, her voice trying to be forceful but she found it was breaking into that of sympathy. She rolled her eyes for being so soft; Imogen could've been seriously injured! Or worse!

Imogen didn't respond. She just shifted her arms in an attempt to get closer to the witch. Why she would want to do such a thing, Constance had no idea. Just the other night she practically ran from the room at a simple touch …

Constance had no other choice but to return the embrace - she felt the only way she'd get the woman off of her would be if she used magick, and she didn't want to resort to that. And besides, it was rather chilly out and she had left her cloak behind ... Imogen's natural body heat was nice and warm ...

Her pale, spindly fingers reached around around the younger woman's waist. As she did so, she seemed to take it all in, the feeling of the fabric through her own, the warmth of the tan skin beneath it … a blush crossed her features. Stiffly, she leant her head against hers, feeling the soft blonde hair against her cold cheek … the sensation made her want to run her fingers through her short hair, if only just to memorize the feeling entirely, but of course such an act would be deemed highly inappropriate, even though the position they were in right now was scandalous enough in her mind.

Imogen breathed deep and exhaled shakily as she relaxed fully against her, and Constance found herself doing the same, giving in to the touch, her arms lying limp around her instead of stiffly like they had been before. This moment was so surreal to her anyway, she figured she might as well give in as it might as well have been a dream.

"I'm sorry." Constance managed out of nowhere, memories of how rudely she behaved towards her earlier that day came flooding back to her within those words.

"For what?" Imogen asked, voice muffled against the front of Constance's dress, the vibrations from her voice tickling her slightly.

"Earlier in the staff room … I should have listened to you."

"You couldn't have known …"

"I put the entire school at risk," Constance pointed out, feeling foolish as the familiar prickle of tears stung at the corners of her eyes.

Imogen slid her arms down Constance's black silk-covered arms, her hands stopping to grip the older woman by the shoulders as she pulled herself up onto her tip-toes and gave her a small peck on the cheek. It was very quick, and Constance barely felt it, but still her face turned a deep shade of red.

"No point in regretting," Imogen said, seemingly unfazed by what she'd just done, "You did just save me, after all," she reasoned with a wry grin.

Constance just stared back, wide-eyed, still in shock from the kiss.

Imogen's grin faded quickly, and she removed her hands from the taller woman with a blush, feeling suddenly incredibly stupid.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Constance found her voice.

"Miss Drill, I ..."

"I'm sorry Miss Hardbroom, it won't happen again," she immediately apologized, pulling her bike upright.

Constance reached out to touch her but she walked off just as her fingers grazed the shoulder of her jumper.

"You are not worthless ..." Constance said, barely audibly. The non-witch didn't seem to hear her, she just continued on her way towards the school, the leaves crunching loudly underneath her sneakers.

She would tell her that again one day, and would make sure she heard her. Perhaps now wasn't the time, anyway, for she'd need to explain herself, having spent the last year and a half making the non-witch feel unwelcome at this school since the day she came.

She sighed quietly to herself, and followed.

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><p><strong>(AN)** - One more chapter of this episode, may or may not involve a kiss I haven't quite decided ... and then it will go into 'Monkey Business' and go quicker from there on in. I'm going to try and keep this going throughout the entire series, developing on their 'relationship', so please bear with me. Also, the title of this story needs to change soon. xP Reviews please! Let me know if it was in-character! I know I should've described the witches more, but it was intended to just be a random attack anyways, will barely have them acknowledge the confrontation when they do show up again. In any case, you know it's Hecketty who will be the major villain in this - expect an appearance from her in the near future! Anyways, again, reviews! The next will be up ASAP! :)


	6. The Truth

**(A/N)**- Firstly, thank you so much to those who reviewed! Secondly, this is very short and hasn't been beta'd, so forgive any mistakes please. I've been in the shithouse, excuse the language, my life has been an absolute WRECK but I suppose I brought it upon myself. But I won't get into it because it's just a load of drama, as usual. I needed to get this chapter out. I will understand if you don't like it - it will get better. Just hang in there. Trying to get my life together atm and I got a shitload of homework in SCULPTURE of all the classes to get homework in, guh! xP Enjoy!

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><p><strong>- The Truth - <strong>

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><p>"Mildred!" Maud called, knocking at her door.<p>

Miss Hardbroom, who was in the middle of waking all the girls up, stopped Maud and urged her away gently, telling her that Mildred was permitted to sleep a while longer, excusing that she must be tired after the fiasco that occurred earlier, and that Maud was free to do so as well. Maud politely declined and went off to wake the others and tell them of what had happened whilst they were all sleeping.

Soon, every student in the school was talking about it. The stories were getting downright ridiculous though - somehow three witches had evolved into six, and there was somehow a dragon involved as well. Some even speculated that Miss Drill had been gravely injured, Miss Bat as well, as no one had seen the two teachers this morning. Both were assumedly off getting ready for their classes that were due to resume later that day, and Constance, having overheard enough nonsense for the last five minutes, went downstairs to prepare for her classes as well.

She was looking forward to some alone time in her classroom, for she wanted to recall all that has happened in the past twenty-four hours and hoped that she could make sense of it all. Perhaps it was the hope that her friendship with Imogen Drill might be something more that was causing her to jump ahead of herself. After all, people hug one another all the time, it wasn't exactly a romantic gesture.

Imogen had been through a lot. Had Constance not been there and the oath fell through, Imogen would've been seriously injured in the very least. The spell they had cast at her was a paralyzing spell, a banned one at that as it had been known to have a tendency to linger on for longer than intended in the ways of battle magic, and it's effects were sometimes permanent.

Imogen was unaware of this though, and Constance decided not to share this information with her lest it only make the reality of the situation far more difficult for her to overcome.

Although the non-witch appeared not to show it, Constance was certain the encounter had shook her up a bit. Constance herself was rattled by the witch's words as she stood beside a tree, invisible, waiting for the moment to strike ... it pained her to know that she had, at some point, said similar words to the non-witch.

Feeling sick to her stomach, she headed down the spiral staircase and sought the safety of her potions lab when a voice called out to her, and she tried to look indifferent as the woman in question jogged up to her.

"What is it, Miss Drill?" she asked in her usual authoritative tone.

"Where's Mildred?" she asked, catching her breath.

"I let her sleep in a while longer," she said, to which Imogen raised an eyebrow, but Constance ignored it, "Why, has she somehow managed to wreak havoc even in her sleep?"

"No, but she needs new boots," Imogen said, and it was Constance's turn to raise a brow in question, "I already spoke with Miss Cackle about it, I'm willing to pay for them as I didn't give her the chance to free herself with magick first ... the witches cast a spell on her that made her get stuck in the mud, and I yanked her out." She explained quickly, as Constance looked more and more bewildered as she spoke, "You can either take the cost for replacement out of my paycheck, or I can pay you in cash right now if you'd like ..."

"There's no need," Constance dismissed, "I can mark it down as a magickal mishap, it's perfectly alright."

Imogen nodded with a small smile of relief, "Thank you."

A realization had occurred to the potions mistress, and she felt that she might as well put it out there, but she decided to ask Imogen before she made any assumptions herself, "What was Mildred doing out in the woods so early anyway?"

Imogen considered lying, but she knew it wouldn't do any good - Constance would see right through it.

"I think she was trying to run away," she admitted, "She had all her belongings, and her cat with her ..."

Constance's eyes darkened, her lips pursed, and she folded her arms. Imogen grabbed hold of arm and gave it an insistent squeeze, preventing her from teleporting.

"Constance Hardbroom, if you go up there to yell at her -"

"I am not!" she snapped as she shrugged Imogen's hand away, "She just needs to understand that such behavior won't be tolerated -"

"She just saved the school!"

"That is besides the point, do you realize how much trouble we would be in if something had happened to her? I know I don't show it very often but I do care about the girls, Miss Drill -"

"If you really do care, you won't yell at her for it. I know it was a dangerous thing for her to do, leaving like that, but you must know _why_ she left! She's only in her first year here at Cackle's, and she's had a bit of a rough start, that's all. She probably thought she'd be doing you all a favor if she just quit."

Constance's eyes widened slightly, and Imogen corrected herself immediately, "I mean if she left."

The fire that had begun to rage inside Constance out of fear for Mildred's safety had instantly died down when she heard those words.

"Miss Drill, about Agatha ..."

"I'm fine, Constance, I've already told you."

She took hold of her arm to silence her, taking her by surprise.

"I don't want you to quit," she said seriously, "You may be a non-witch, but you've lasted longer here at Cackle's than any teacher that had been in your place before you, and ..." she failed to find the right words to say, so she simply repeated, "I don't want you to quit."

Imogen looked rather dazed as she tried to figure out exactly how Constance knew what had been said to her, how long she had been standing there before she saved her from Agatha ... she caught sight of Constance folding her arms in an attempt to disappear, and Imogen, too riddled with questions to think properly, found herself reaching out and grabbing hold of her arms before she disappeared and so ... Imogen went with her.

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><p>They reappeared in a small storage closet, and the both of them wound up incredibly close to one another, a situation neither of them would've complained about but the sudden unexpectedness of the closeness had only enraged Constance and panicked Imogen.<p>

"Miss Drill, what were you thinking?"

"I'm sorry!" she exclaimed, leaning back into the shelves behind her in an effort to get as far away from the angry witch as humanly possible, but it wasn't by much.

"Where are we?" she asked, trying to ignore how the older woman's legs felt against her own. She looked about the dimly lit room. Shelf after shelf lined the walls with boxes of extra supplies for the students.

"We're in a storage closet, what did you think?" she snapped irritably, sliding past the woman to stand in the small circle of space by the door, putting a great distance between them for such a small room, "You said Mildred needed new boots, did you not?"

"I was afraid you were going to -"

"What? Shout at her?" she asked rolling her eyes, "So what if I was?" she added sarcastically, earning a dark look from the sports mistress.

"Just get the boots, and I'll get out of your face ..." she said, giving up for today. Constance moved aside as she went to open the door, but she could only jiggle the handle helplessly.

"It's locked."

"What?" Constance asked, "It can't be locked - there is no lock."

"Well it's not opening." Imogen replied, turning and twisting the handle a couple more times.

Constance sighed in annoyance, lightly nudging the smaller woman aside, "Here, let me."

But she too could not open it.

"Can't you use magick?"

"What, and risk breaking down the door? These are old doors, Miss Drill, this is an old school - if I use magick I could risk destroying it entirely. It's just stuck, that's all."

"Should we try calling for help?" Imogen offered, "Perhaps it'll open easier from the other side."

"Oh, that would be just _perfect_, how do you suppose we explain ourselves then? Two teachers just _happened_ to get locked in a closet meant for one person to be in at a time!" Her face flushed at the thought of such a scandal, and she jerked at the door handle once more.

"Keep that up and you're just going to break it off."

"You try it then!" she hissed, releasing the doorknob and motioning wildly to it. Imogen squeezed in front of her, and attempted to open it, but it was all in vain.

"You know, this is why it doesn't pay to use magick - had you walked up the stairs like a normal person and entered from the outside, this wouldn't have happened. I wish I hadn't grabbed your arm in the first place, it would've been amusing to see how long you'd stay trapped in here before you gave up and blasted the door down."

Constance didn't seem to be paying any attention as she stood there, trying to keep her hands to herself, but she appeared to be listening intently, her eyes fixed at a point on the wall across from them.

"Miss Hardbroom?" she asked, but she didn't answer. She gave up on the door and shook her shoulder gently, "Constance? Are you alright?"

Constance's eyes immediately scrunched in annoyance at the touch, and she grabbed Imogen's shoulder, "Shhh!" she hissed.

Imogen went silent, and she soon heard voices from the other side of the wall. It was unmistakably Ethel Hallow's voice, followed by Drusilla Paddock's. She couldn't hear exactly what they were talking about until she heard the three words 'enchanted Mildred's broom' and then Ethel proceeded to laugh, talking about how great an idea it was, and that no one ever suspected anything because Mildred was a hopeless case.

She looked to Constance, who's stare had turned into a fixed glare.

"Well, I suppose Mildred isn't such the bad egg as we thought her to be," Imogen commented in a small voice, and Constance's glare was directed to her, not necessarily at her, but she was obviously very angry at what she had just heard.

Without another word, she magicked a box of boots from the shelf and tucked the box under her arm, unintentionally stabbing Imogen in the ribs as she slid past her, "Stand back," she muttered, and Imogen stood as far back as she physically could, watching in shock as Constance shot a burst of yellow magick, causing the door to be tossed carelessly aside as if it were a piece of cardboard, causing a cloud of dust to rise up in its wake.

She stormed off and let herself in to Ethel's bedroom, where she proceeded to berate the girl on how reckless and irresponsible it was for her to do such a thing, that Mildred could've been seriously injured or worse.

Not wanting to eavesdrop, nor wanting to be around once Constance finished her tirade, Imogen snuck downstairs to the staff room, fighting back a smile the whole way.

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><p><strong>(AN)** - Yes, yes, it ended dumb, and expect the next to go abruptly into 'Monkey Business' as I am terrible at transitioning stuff. Reviews please! I really need a reason to smile right now, because I literally have none, no joke. :P


	7. Bruised, Not Broken

**(A/N)**- Sorry for the lateness! I'm well into the next one so it should be up sooner. My classes have me stressed beyond reason - the people who say art classes are easy must not be art majors, I am completely drained emotionally. xP AND I have to run to two museums tomorrow for classwork. Yippee, hooray! Anyways! Thank you to all who have reviewed!

P.S.- This is now the episode 'Monkey Business'

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><p><strong>- Bruised, Not Broken -<strong>

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><p>"I was thinking Mildred ought to see to the new girl, Enid Nightshade. She's going to need someone to show her around the school, look after her ..."<p>

"And get her into trouble," Constance added distastefully, watching Imogen as she sat by the door, clown nose taped to her face. The non-witch reached up and touched it tenderly, wincing in pain as she tried to see if it was broken or not without removing the clown nose.

It had been the first Constance had seen of Imogen since she'd returned from her drama course over the break ... and Constance had probably broken her nose. _'Well, off to a good start as usual,'_ Constance thought, determined to look indifferent as the sports mistress caught her gaze and scowled deeply at her.

"Perhaps Enid will keep her out of trouble," Amelia offered, sipping her tea, "She's going through a bit of a rough time as it is. I spoke to her mother just yesterday. Her parents had recently divorced, and her mother moved Enid and her siblings to the countryside, too far from Salamander Witch school, where Enid originally attended."

"Day witch school," Constance commented, rolling her eyes at the ridiculousness of it all.

"Precisely," Amelia said, sitting beside her deputy head, "Enid was distraught about leaving, and I can imagine, on top of her parents' divorce, it did not bode well."

"And you think pairing her up with Mildred Hubble will make it all better?"

"No, but it may help. In the very least, it could ensure that Enid makes at least one friend here at Cackle's. And it will keep Mildred occupied for the time being."

Imogen, who had been palpating her slowly-swelling nose, unintentionally put too much pressure on a particularly sore spot, and she let out a small cry of anguish. Arms pulled tightly against her chest, she leaned into her lap as she waited the pain out.

"Miss Drill, are you alright?" Amelia inquired, "I could send for Miss Hawthorne ..."

"She's off today," Constance informed, "And we are only to contact her if it's a dire emergency."

Davina stood suddenly, looking rather furious, "You very well could have broken her nose, Miss _Harrrdbroom_!"

"_Me_?" Constance squeaked in outrage, getting to her feet as well to stare the older woman down, "_She_ ran into the door!" she said, motioning to the sports mistress who was still folded helplessly in on herself, "It's not my fault you two were quite literally _clowning around_!"

"Will the both of you just _shut up_, you're giving me a headache!" Imogen replied in a muffled shout, sitting upright once more to cast a nasty stare in Constance's direction.

Miss Hardbroom sighed audibly, crossing the room, "I may have something in my store room that could fix you up right." She pulled open the door and Imogen flinched away like a beaten dog.

"Careful dear, I think she means to finish you off," Davina muttered, loud enough for Constance to hear.

"I do not want to '_finish her off_'!" Constance snapped back, and added sarcastically, "Besides if I did, we'd have no one to oversee lunch. I'm _kidding_!" she added hastily when Davina looked positively horrified, and with a sigh she took off down the hall towards her potions lab. Without a word, Imogen followed, cupping one hand over her sore nose.

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><p>Imogen stepped carefully into the store room at the back of the potions lab, unsure if Constance had possibly taken back her offer to help her. The brunette had her back to her as she rummaged through a large cabinet, and Imogen took a moment to glance around the place she'd normally been forbidden to enter. Shelf after shelf was lined with bottled potions and ingredient jars. Her eyes immediately fell on a jar which appeared to contain a human heart submerged in formaldehyde, and her stomach gave a small lurch.<p>

"The girls have been rearranging my things," Constance explained in annoyance, not looking at her, "I told Amelia allowing them free-range of the potions lab during study hours was a bad idea ... ah," she took out a small blue bottle and it connected against the green one in her hand with a small clink before she turned around, placing them on the table in the middle of the room.

"Have a seat," she ordered, magicking a stool to slide out from beneath the table. Imogen sat immediately, still cupping a hand over her clown-nose.

"Let me see ..." before Imogen could remove her hand, Constance had already done so, the touch sending the non-witch's pulse racing. The witch, on the other hand, appeared to take no notice - all thoughts appeared to be focused on assessing the damage she'd done to the blonde's nose.

Carefully, she removed the four corners of the thin tape that Davina had used to strap the clown nose to her face. Her short fingernails grazed her tanned skin, and she shivered involuntarily at the sensation it caused her. Constance paused a moment, regarding her curiously as if she might have harmed her, but soon continued without a word, placing the false nose on the table.

Tenderly, she felt along the bridge of her nose with both hands, starting from the top. When she'd reached the middle, Imogen jerked slightly with a sharp intake of breath. The skin there had already begun to turn a nasty purple and greenish tinge.

"It's not broken, just bruised," she confirmed, but her fingers lingered a moment longer than need be. Imogen stared up at her, drawing her gaze to look back at her. Her brown eyes were warm and inviting in the morning sunlight, but her eyebrows furrowed over them slightly in a mixture of sadness and fear, and immediately she tore her gaze away before the non-witch could read into it.

Constance picked up the blue bottle and hesitated a moment, collecting herself mentally before unscrewing the bottle and handing it to the younger woman, "It's not magick," she assured when the younger woman made an apprehensive face, "It's just herbal ointment, it will ease the pain and help the bruise fade quicker."

Imogen took the bottle, and their fingers barely brushed before Constance recoiled slightly, nearly causing her to drop it. She was met with a fearful gaze before the witch turned, retrieving the other bottle and putting it away.

"Do you have a mirror?" Imogen asked quietly.

Constance immediately left the room, and she heard her open a desk drawer, shortly afterward she appeared with a simple silver compact mirror. She placed it flat on the table before her. Imogen supposed she did so to avoid any more skin contact.

She could feel the tension building in the room, and she wanted to hurry up and get out of there as soon as possible. Quickly, she rubbed the lotion into the bridge of her nose, wincing at the throbbing pain.

"I'm sorry," Constance managed, and Imogen saw her through the mirror as she stood by the window, arms folded as she looked shamefully back at her.

"It's alright. I was messing around ... I should've been more careful," she said, preferring to just take the blame than to have to argue with Constance on whose fault it was.

She screwed the cap back on the bottle and stood, holding out both objects to the witch, her fingers pinching the edge of the mirror while in the other hand she held the bottle by the cap, so that she too could be careful to avoid touching her.

Constance took them without a word, her brown eyes meeting hers in a fleeting glance before she returned the bottle to the cabinet, slipping the mirror into a hidden pocket on her dress.

"You don't happen to have a band-aid, do you?" Imogen asked, feeling like she was asking too much of her ... even if she _did_ open the door on her face.

Constance raised a questioning brow at her, and she immediately explained, "I just want to cover it up, that's all."

"So it can be more dramatic," Constance drawled, fighting back a smile as Imogen rolled her eyes. She produced a bandaid from a nearby drawer, and quickly disposed of the wrapper with a wisp of blue magick, "Hold still."

Imogen didn't need to be told, she froze almost instantly when the woman's soft fingers returned to her skin, nearly cupping her face in her hands as she smoothed down the adhesive ends of the bandaid with her thumbs.

Imogen found herself reaching up to touch her arms, her fingers reveling in the soft silk beneath her fingers, the rough patches where the thread made designs of flowers barely noticeable in the darkness of her dress.

Constance stiffened at the touch, looking at the shorter woman like a deer caught in headlights. She wanted so much to return the touch, to gently explore the soft tan skin that was ... much more exposed as usual, she realized, as her gaze fell to the woman's bare shoulders and breastbone. She blushed deeply and averted her eyes.

"I have class in ten minutes," she blurted out suddenly, slipping away from the younger woman's grasp, her keys jingling noisily as she locked the cabinet with trembling hands.

She took in short steady breaths, standing before the cabinet with her hands still clasped tightly around the handle. She let the key drop to her side and join the rest as they dangled at her hip.

She could feel the non-witch approach her, and her brown eyes rose to meet her own reflection in the glass of the cabinet. Imogen was tentatively reaching out to touch her shoulder.

Constance whipped around to face her, causing the younger woman to jump.

"Don't you have a class to teach as well?" she snapped irritably, her look of sadness and fear instantly transforming into that of anger.

Imogen looked momentarily shocked, and hesitated for a second before returning her hand to her side. She left without a word, and the silence damn near knocked Constance off her feet.

Riddled with guilt, she stood alone in her store room, her eyes glazed over with tears she would not allow to be shed. She had been cold, yes, but she had reason. She wrapped her arms around her thin frame, and immediately her eyes flew to the discarded clown nose on the table.

No, they could never be together ... but she didn't deserve such cruelty.

Quickly she snatched up the nose and pocketed it into her dress as the third years began to pile into the classroom.

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><p><strong>(AN)** - Have to type slow my sis is sleeping. Please review, next update should be within a week, maybe sooner!


	8. Nothing Happened

**(A/N)**- Gotta run off to the bus for my late night class! Thought I'd post a chapter though. It was much longer, but I had to cut off a scene I'm sure you've all been waiting for, don't worry, it's sorted and I'm back on track so I'll work out the kinks later. ;D Apologies for any errors, I'll give it another glance over later. ENJOY! And thanks so much to my reviewers!

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><p><strong>- Nothing Happened -<strong>

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><p>"Looks like your nose has gotten better ..."<p>

"Mmhm ..."

"I'm guessing she gave you a hard time then?"

"Sort of. Not really."

"She needs to sort out her anger issues. Slamming doors closed and swinging them open like that ... I'm surprised she didn't knock you out cold!"

"It was my fault, really. I was behaving like a fool."

"Are those your words or hers?"

"Look, I know she has issues, but so does everyone else around here."

"That doesn't justify her actions at all."

"Can't you just drop it, Davina?"

"That's everyone!" She exclaimed happily as she peered into the empty great hall. The girls had all just finished their supper and headed up the stairs for bed.

"Who's got lights out tonight?"

"Miss Cackle said it's either you or me ..."

"Not it!"

Davina pouted, "That isn't fair! I wasn't ready!"

She grabbed the handles of the large doors and swung them closed in annoyance with a fixed frown on her face. She turned, arms crossed as she threw her back against the closed doors, and immediately jumped out of her skin with a small shriek at the sight of the formidable potions mistress beside her.

By the angry look on her face, she must've been standing behind the door the entire time.

She said nothing to the chanting teacher. Her fixed glare turned to the sports mistress, and she crossed the floor, arm extended to hand her something. Imogen held out her hand and nearly dropped the red clown nose as Constance thrusted it into her open palm before striding past her in a cold breeze, her keys jingling noisily as her boots rapped on the hard cobblestone.

"She really has to stop creeping about like that, she's going to give me palpitations!" Davina protested in a squeak once the deputy headmistress was well out of earshot.

Imogen sighed as she grabbed Davina's hand and pulled her off the door, urging her upstairs.

"Go to bed, I'll take watch tonight."

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><p>Imogen sat at the edge of her bed that following morning, taking her sweet time doing up her shoelaces. She had been understandably nervous about jogging in the woods since her confrontation with those witches. She was afraid to tell anyone lest she sound ridiculous, and luckily she had avoided embarrassment for the autumn break wasn't long after Halloween, so she'd simply gone on her small vacation and forgotten about it.<p>

But now, this was the first morning since she'd been back, and her body ached for a good run.

She stood and leant against her open window. The sun was beginning to rise without her. She'd have to make a decision quick before she'd have to see to the girls' breakfast ...

She watched the forest for a few minutes as she tried to find the courage to leave, and her mind was made up when she caught sight of a woman in a witch's hat, all dressed in black heading out into the woods with a basket on her arm ...

Smiling softly to herself, she hurried down the stairs and out of the castle walls to catch up with Constance Hardbroom.

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><p>"You're up early ..."<p>

The witch's dark brown eyes regarded her for a moment, her face unreadable, and she turned away. Her pale hand kept reaching into the basket, her long spindly fingers crushing up the herbs and leaves in a fist before sprinkling it out along the forest path. She walked slowly along, and repeated the process every few feet.

"What are you doing?"

Constance stopped briefly in her tracks, as if considering to answer her, but she soon continued on her way.

Imogen sighed as she followed.

"You're still mad at me, aren't you?" she asked, and the silence seemed to answer her question, "Look, I'm sorry, what happened in the store room ..."

Constance stopped suddenly, and whipped around to face her, eyes flashing dangerously as she hissed under her breath.

"_Nothing_ happened."

Imogen gulped quietly at the malice in her voice, and gave a short nod, "Of course not."

Constance's brown eyes lingered for a moment, softening slightly before returning to the task at hand, her face hiding behind her steepled hat as she seemed to glide along the narrow trail.

Imogen knew she was asking for trouble as she continued to follow the witch, watching as what appeared to be dead leaves fell from her ghostly-white palms. Her brows furrowed as she tried to bite back the urge to ask her again what exactly she was doing, but the witch soon spoke up.

"It's a protection charm," she said quietly, "It keeps unwanted visitors out. The castle is currently protected under the oath, but the grounds surrounding it are not ..."

She raised her willowy arm and magicked up another basket.

"If you're not going on your run and you're not going to leave me be, then the least you can do is help ..." she grabbed a couple of handfuls of the crushed leaves and tossed them in the basket before handing it over to the non-witch.

"You're the reason I have to do this, after all." She said these words so accusingly, but her brown eyes seemed to soften as if she might've been genuinely concerned for the non-witch.

Imogen offered a small smile, but it went unreturned as the witch looked away again.

"Stay on the other side of the path," she ordered sternly, "That way we'll get this done twice as fast."

"So I'm not allowed to venture anywhere beyond the path then?"

"No, you can. It's like a repellant; it can keep them at bay for a good distance ..."

Imogen wondered exactly what a 'good distance' was, but she found herself not caring as the witch's silk-covered arm lightly brushed against her bare skin as she passed her by.

"Thank you for doing this for me ... you really didn't have to."

"I'm not doing this for you, Miss Drill. I'm doing this for the safety of our students."

Imogen rolled her eyes, feeling incredibly foolish.

"... But you're welcome, anyway, I suppose ..." Constance muttered, and Imogen suppressed a grin.

* * *

><p>"Constance, did you know we have a mold infestation?"<p>

The witch stared guiltily down at her breakfast, poking the miserable glop of porridge with her spoon.

"Constance ..."

"Yes, I did, headmistress," she said finally with a sigh, letting her spoon fall into the bowl with a clank, "I didn't want to worry you, it is being taken care of."

"Mr. Blossom said that the cause of it might've been something from the potions lab ..."

"Yes, it was. That's the price you pay when you allow students to mess around in a potions lab during study hours." She shook her head in dismay, "None of that matters now. It's being taken care of."

"In the future you need to bring such things to my immediate attention. I understand that you're my deputy headmistress, but that doesn't give you a right to leave me in the dark."

Her words cut through Constance like knives, and her hurtful gaze unintentionally met the green eyes of the non-witch across from her. She turned to catch Davina's surprised eyes before she looked down in embarrassment.

"Yes, headmistress. If you'll excuse me ..."

She rose from her chair and made to leave, but Imogen's words stopped her short.

"What about your breakfast?" she asked, "You barely touched it."

"No time, I've got to sort out my store room," she replied briskly, glancing and meeting Miss Cackle's eyes. She knew that both Amelia and Imogen expressed deep concern in the past for her poor eating habits, but after spending a summer break worrying so much about her future at this establishment that she'd become oblivious to the fact that there was mold growing in her own classroom, along with days spent trying to remove said mold, not to mention finding out that she was allergic to the spores only at night which prevented her from getting a single good night's rest ... Constance was in no mood to put up with criticism from anyone, and that included Amelia Cackle.

With an exaggerated flick of her wrist, she zapped the bowl of tasteless muck into oblivion with a burst of light before vanishing into thin air.

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><p><strong>(AN)**- Please review! The next one should be up quicker than this.


	9. Too Close For Comfort

**(A/N)**- OKAY. Stupid chapter. I posted it earlier before running for the bus and apparently it never showed. I tried to check in on it at school but service was poor because I'm always in the dead zone building. ANYWAYS! Finally an update! And my longest chapter yet, which ... surprised me, everything after this first scene was written about an hour to two hours before I ran for the bus. Almost missed the bus because of this. But yes. It's finally up. Please pardon any mistakes, and watch out for the **femslash**! This is a big-un! :D Not M-rated though ... But if you've been reading this far I doubt you're offended / scared. ;P Enjoy!

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><p><strong>-Too Close For Comfort-<strong>

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><p>A high-pitched sneeze echoed up from the nearby stairwell, jerking Imogen awake.<p>

She turned in her blankets and listened as the familiar padding sound of Constance's purple slippers ascended the stairs, but not for long - it was interrupted by yet another high-pitched sneeze and a slight stumble as her body collided with the cold wall, the lantern she carried clanging noisily as it hit the railing. She let out a small moan in annoyance before continuing on her way.

Imogen climbed out from under her covers and cautiously neared the door, wondering if she should approach the witch at such a late hour. Her slightly trembling fingertips brushed the door handle when suddenly ...

The familiar sound of the witch's teleporting, like a small gust of wind, met her ears and the next thing she knew the potions mistress had collided headlong into her.

"Why don't you watch where you're going?" she snapped irritably, obviously congested.

"Constance?"

The witch's eyes grew wide in the small shred of moonlight as she peered into the darkness, raising her lantern to her face.

"Imogen?" she asked in surprise, "What are you doing in my room?"

"This is my room ..."

Constance's brows knitted in confusion and she looked about the room, eying the sports posters on the walls with distaste.

"Obviously."

Imogen folded her arms, slightly offended, but concern for the witch buried the feeling, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, really," she brushed off, pinching her nose with her handkerchief for a moment as she felt another sneeze coming. After a few seconds passed and no sneeze occurred, she removed it from her face, clenching it in her fist.

"My magick is a little buggy, that's all," she explained, "It obviously can't get me very far at the moment, I should've known better ... Sorry for the intrusion ..."

"Is this because of the mold?" Imogen inquired, enjoying the fact that the woman was responding to her much more gently than she had ever done before, and even though she supposed it was just because she was feeling under the weather she wanted to continue talking like this.

"Are you allergic?"

She rolled her eyes as she sniffled slightly, "_Very_. Only at night though, I'm perfectly fine during the day ..."

"Did you take something for it?"

"Of _course_ I did," she replied in annoyance, but her usual expression seemed dazed, and Imogen felt a wave of worry wash over her. After all, it wasn't every day that Constance Hardbroom had trouble with her magick. Whatever she took to alleviate it seemed to be affecting her negatively as well.

"Now if you'll excuse me ..." she said in a sort of slur as she made to leave. She let out a high-pitched sneeze, the force of which caused her to stumble. Her lantern collided into the stone wall, causing a small cry of shock to escape her lips.

Imogen grasped her shoulder, pulling her upright, "Are you hurt?" she asked, not waiting for an answer as she quickly assessed her spell-casting fingers, which were curled up in pain and already tinged red in the light of the lantern, which she took from her and placed upon her desktop.

She could feel the witch's gaze upon her but she refused to meet her eyes for fear she'd only read rejection in them. At least she hadn't pulled her hand away ... yet.

Imogen tried hard not to marvel at how soft her skin felt as she gently pressed her thumb and forefinger along her injured digits, causing the witch to jerk slightly and suck in air through her teeth. She slowed in her movements, trying hard to cause as the woman as little pain as possible, if at all.

She checked the pinky finger last, and with a small restrained smile she ran her palm along her fingers as she cupped them gently in hers, warming up her icy skin.

"They might bruise," she said quietly before releasing her hand, "But they're not broken."

She looked up in time to see Constance blush at the restatement of her own words. Her brown eyes were till slightly glassy from either the sneeze or the pain, she couldn't tell. She was suddenly aware of how close they were, the both of them standing just before the door caught between the wall and her wardrobe.

Imogen leant back against the cold castle wall, ignoring the stinging sensation against her exposed skin as she smiled awkwardly at the witch. Her smile quickly faded as it went unreturned as usual.

She wanted to fix this, she really did ... but she didn't know where to begin or how to address it without being too weird. Constance had been the one to ignore her previous advances, after all. Sure, she had been the one to leave the potions lab after she'd touched her hand ... but Constance was the one who backed off in the store room after she'd patched up her nose. Constance was the one who stared at her in fright after she'd kissed her on the cheek.

Imogen folded her arms protectively across her chest, determined not to lay another finger on the witch. She let out a deep sigh, "I suppose you should be off to bed then ..."

Constance didn't seem to hear her as she neared closer, trailing her fingers across her arm and up to her shoulder, sending an involuntary shiver throughout the blonde.

Her exploring fingers gently brushed the bridge of her nose as she smiled lightly, "Your nose looks better," she observed, her voice uncharacteristically soft, as if she were humming.

"Thanks to you," Imogen murmured back with a small grin.

Her slender fingers soon played with the short golden locks at the back of her neck as she neared even closer to her face.

"Constance ..." she began, trying hard to focus and reason with the witch, but she soon felt warm breath upon her face and she froze, her arms squeezing her stomach tightly as she willed herself not to react, for she was afraid that if she made a move on her part and Constance regretted this, she'd hold some of the blame.

All thoughts fled her mind as she felt the witch's soft lips descend upon her own, kissing her gently as the rest of her body seemed to follow, pressing her up against the stone wall.

A loud knock from the other side of the door caused both women to jump and break contact. Constance made to run, probably to teleport, but such a thing would be useless in her current state - with her luck she'd probably appear right on top of whoever was at the door! Imogen quickly sprung into action, grabbing hold of the sleeves of the brunette's silk robes and anchoring her fists into them, forcing her to stay put.

"Who is it?" she managed to choke out.

"Imogen, it's Frank," the caretaker whispered loudly back, "Sorry if I woke you, but I need a word ..."

"Just a moment, Frank ..." Her grip loosened on the witch's robes as she answered the caretaker, and the witch hastily made to fold her arms and disappear before she was stopped yet again by the non-witch, who pinned her up against the wardrobe unintentionally, earning a wide-eyed glare from the formidable potions mistress whose lips were pursed tight as she restrained herself from shouting. In their closeness they could feel each other's hearts beating madly, whether from fear of being caught or the excitement of being so close, they couldn't tell. Perhaps it was a little of both.

"Are you alright in there?" Frank asked, having heard the scuffle.

"Fine, just hold on!" Imogen called back, unintentionally rather irritably, and she sighed audibly at the ridiculousness of it all. She looked up at the witch she was currently pressed against.

"Don't go," Imogen pleaded as quietly as possible, "_Please_."

Constance could only stare back, her gaze softening as she searched the younger woman's deep green eyes for an explanation.

"I'll be right back," she promised, reluctantly releasing her as she snatched up her sweat jacket from her desk chair, throwing it around her shoulders as she went out into the chilly hallway to see what Mr. Blossom wanted.

Constance, overcome with guilt, couldn't stop the thoughts that were invading her mind as soon as the non-witch left.

The most repetitive thought that kept cropping up was that Imogen hadn't kissed her back. Perhaps it was because she hadn't had time to, but Constance, in her confused and potion-addled state of mind, assumed it was because she'd never intended to in the first place.

And she didn't want to stick around to hear what Imogen had to say, for she knew exactly what it would be. The thought alone made her eyes burn with the familiar prickle of tears, and she sighed at her own foolishness.

She wrapped her slender arms around her middle and vanished into the night.

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><p>"Imogen, is something the matter?" Miss Cackle inquired gently, breaking the non-witch out of her thoughts and causing her green eyes to fleetingly glance at the potions mistress, who had been strategically avoiding her gaze all morning.<p>

"Just tired that's all," she mumbled quietly, "This mold business ... surprised it wasn't taken care of over the holidays."

Constance flinched slightly, biting back a retort as she gripped her teacup tight, taking a sip of its contents.

"Well it's being taken care of now." The brunette finally replied, her voice even and controlled as she tried to hide any hint of resentment but her anger was obvious to everyone.

"Your drama exercise is today, isn't it?" Miss Bat asked enthusiastically, "That certainly brightens your day a bit."

"A bit," Imogen echoed, twirling her fork between her thumb and forefinger as she completely ignored her egg and broccoli omelette.

"That reminds me!" the chanting teacher exclaimed, turning to the headmistress, "Amelia, I was wondering ..."

Imogen tuned the two of them out as she attempted a bite of her breakfast, relenting only on the sole fact that she would exhaust herself before lunch if she didn't at least try to eat. She stole a glance at the deputy headmistress who seemed to be struggling with the same problem. Her eating habits being as poor as they were, on a daily basis she at least managed a cracker or two for breakfast, but today she seemed unable to manage even that.

Her brown eyes glanced across the table at Imogen's omelette, and her eyes immediately darted upwards to watch the younger woman chew the tiny morsel she'd extracted. The look on her face almost seemed envious before she looked away again.

"You're all welcome to stop by later if you wish," Imogen announced once silence fell in the room once more, "It's during club hours so it won't take up ordinary class time ..." her eyes kept looking to the witch across from her as she spoke, as if she speaking to just her and not the rest of them, but the witch pretended not to hear her as she pointlessly poked her fork at the salad before her.

"I would dear, but I have a rehearsal during that time," Davina politely excused.

"I'm afraid I've got some papers to grade, Imogen ..." Amelia said sadly, "Sorry about that, I'm behind on them as it is ..."

"It's fine," she said, dropping her fork a little too loudly on her plate, "Must be off," she got to her feet, hoping that Constance would agree to stop by, or at least try and steal one last glance at her before she stepped out, but she was far too busy having a staring contest with her breakfast, her lips pursed tight.

"But you haven't finished your breakfast!" Davina squeaked after her.

Imogen had already left.

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><p>Trust Mildred Hubble to ruin her first attempt at a drama play of her very own.<p>

And trust Constance Hardbroom to immediately show up just as it happened.

Imogen lifted the punctured scenery up with the help of Maud Moonshine and rested it against the wall, and shamefully began to gather up the rest of the props which lay littered all over the floor. Luckily Ethel's fainting was brief and probably faked, for she came to almost instantly, and Imogen saw no trouble in letting Drusilla bring her friend to the sick bay.

"Aren't we going to continue Miss?" Maud asked hopefully, still holding the giant purple ball in her hands.

Imogen forced a small smile, gently taking the ball from her, "Some other day, Maud. Thank you for participating, anyway."

Maud smiled sympathetically back, glancing across the room at her friend before leaving.

Constance's loud reprimanding voice had begun to quiet a bit as she ended her scolding with the usual detention, sentencing both Mildred and Enid to scrub each and every step on the main staircase. Imogen heard her dismiss the girls, and, not wanting to be left alone with her, she quickly shoved the last bit of scenery aside and headed for the door, leaving the costumes in a huge pile by the canvas to be dealt with later.

"Miss Drill, a word?"

She stopped in her tracks with a deep sigh, arms folded as she watched the witch cross the now-cleared floor of the great hall.

"It seems neither of us is fit to perform a play," she murmured in annoyance, eying the torn canvas despairingly, "Personally I think Miss Bat's placed a curse on us both, lest we try and take over all her leisure activities."

Imogen couldn't help the small smile that crossed her lips, but it quickly faded, "I should've been watching her."

"I'm not blaming you, it's _Mildred_, she's always bound to cause trouble but we can't keep an eye on her _all_ the time. She's got to keep an eye on herself."

Imogen nodded shortly, but she couldn't help feeling guilty for the whole thing.

"So, it appears I'm the only one who showed up ..." she mused, looking about the empty room.

"Sorry you had to see that."

"It was lovely ..." she offered quietly.

"Don't be daft, it was horrid and you came in just as it happened ..."

"I saw some of it before Mildred ruined it," she argued, "And you were doing great."

Imogen raised a brow in disbelief, to which Constance's eyes fell shamefully to the floor.

"Look, about last night ..."

"Don't," Imogen said shortly, turning her back to her as she knelt to pack up the props into her spare duffle bag.

She expected the witch to vanish, but she remained, standing there, wringing her bony fingers nervously as she glanced at the door as if contemplating a hasty retreat.

"Imogen, you should at _least_ hear me out ..." she said carefully and quietly.

"It was a mistake, obviously," she dismissed, "There's nothing to discuss."

Constance watched her for a while longer before giving in, throwing her arms up in annoyance with an irritated growl, and the next thing Imogen knew, the witch was sitting beside her on her knees in that tight-fitting dress of hers, snatching up the remaining clothes and handing them to her.

"What are you doing?" Imogen asked, sitting upright as she paused in her work.

"What's it _look_ like? I'm helping you!" she snapped in annoyance, her eyes widening slightly in her anger as she leaned over, grabbed the bag and shoved them in herself.

"It's just not like you, to do such a thing ..." Imogen mumbled under her breath.

"You'd be surprised the amount of things I can do which I ordinarily wouldn't," she retorted, her own words causing her to blush at what she might've been unintentionally referring to.

She beat the sports mistress to the last few items and stuffed them into the bag, handing it to her.

"I was afraid, alright?" Constance admitted finally, her fierce voice softening instantly, "I ... I didn't want ..." she sighed, ashamed of herself as her voice cracked in mid-sentence, "I hope you don't think any less of me."

"I won't if you don't regret what happened ..." Imogen admitted, zipping her bag up and hugging it to her middle. She looked up to meet those fearful brown eyes which betrayed their owner and admitted otherwise.

"Right then," she rose to her feet and left the witch alone, still kneeling on the floor of the great hall next to the damaged scenery.

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><p><strong>(AN)**- Reviews please! :D


	10. No Regrets

**(A/N)** - Firstly, a big thank you to DissectingPomegranates (formerly LongVodka) for ping-ponging ideas and urging me on. I nearly killed this. Felt like starting over completely, actually. Also, thank you so much to my reviewers - sorry about the last alert if you got it - I had posted the chapter but after having it up for about five hours I pulled it, and I'm glad I did. I'm a lot happier with this, please forgive any mistakes, I'm going to give it another look later but I've been staring at it for too long to see straight right now. Urgh. xP ENJOY!

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><p><strong>- No Regrets -<strong>

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><p>"Enlighten me, Miss Drill. Exactly how long were you planning on watching as Mildred dangled in midair before you deigned to do something about it?"<p>

"You arrived seconds after I did, and besides, I'm not a witch, so there was nothing I could do about it."

"You've got two legs, haven't you?" Constance snapped irritably, "And a voice? Perhaps you could've run to fetch us?"

"Constance, there's no use arguing," Miss Cackle eased, gripping her deputy's forearm reassuringly, "Mildred's safe, no harm done."

The witch reluctantly tore her annoyed gaze away from the sports mistress and strode over to sit in her usual chair at the staffroom table. Imogen crossed the room and sat beside her.

"You yourself said that we can't keep an eye on Mildred all the time," the blonde muttered under her breath as she poured herself some tea.

"I didn't blame you for how she got there - I blamed you for _not_ running for help straight away!"

"Constance, enough!" Amelia barked, and Constance immediately fell silent, staring at her empty cup as she waited for Imogen who, much to her surprise, took Constance's cup from her hands and poured the tea for her.

"I'm sorry, all right?" Imogen admitted, "But you should be sorry too for getting cross with me for not completing a task which I had no time to perform."

Constance stared, lips pursed at her cup of tea, taking a sip and burning her tongue but she didn't seem to care.

"Well?" Imogen asked.

"Well _what_?"

"Oh, Constance," Amelia sighed, "Just say you're sorry and we can put this all behind us."

Constance rolled her eyes with a huff, "Fine. I'm sorry I care too much about the wellbeing of our students to take time into account when one could've alerted another in five seconds flat."

"You're welcome," Imogen accepted in a sarcastic tone; she obviously just wanted the argument to end, whether Constance wanted it to or not. She saw the witch open her mouth to further protest the sports mistress's behavior, but Miss Cackle cleared her throat and gave her a look, and the raven-haired witch ended it.

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><p>Constance was overseeing the girls as they ate their dinner, pacing in her usual manner like a leopard stalking back and forth in a cage at the zoo. She was particularly irritated today due to the argument she'd had with Imogen earlier, and she found herself watching and hoping that one of the girls would try something so that she could release her anger the only way she knew how : shouting at an unnecessary volume.<p>

She turned on her heel, stalking her way towards the door when Imogen burst into the room, looking rather annoyed. She raised a brow at the non-witch as she walked, but said nothing, and turned on her heel to walk the other way.

"Where is it?" Imogen growled, dangerously close to her and she stopped in her steps, turning to face her.

"Where is _what_?"

"You know _what_," she said icily, unflinching.

"Your drama props? I transported them to the sports shed."

"I saw that," she argued, "I mean the canvas. It's not there."

"You mean the one with the hole in it?" she asked, toying with the blonde.

"Did you throw it out, then?"

Constance's brown eyes glanced over to the girls, Mildred and her friends, who were sitting closest to them. They quickly averted their curious eyes to their plates. The potions mistress sighed, looking to the witch and nodding her head over her shoulder, gesturing her to follow and she reluctantly obeyed.

She passed all of the tables and climbed the short steps onto the stage, snatching one of the many silver keys from her waist and jamming it into the door, twisting it and pulling it open.

She held the door open for the non-witch, who entered without any prior hesitation or concerns. Constance made sure to shoot a glare at Mildred, who was peering at them over her shoulder. She slammed the door shut behind her.

"You ... _fixed_ it." Imogen said in disbelief, running her hand along the canvas where her student's head had previously punctured through.

Constance folded her arms tightly to her body, watching with a veiled smile as the non-witch as she marveled at her handiwork.

"I'm sorry," she breathed in relief, glancing apologetically at her, "I was afraid you'd thrown it out or ... blasted it to smithereens ..."

"Because I am that cruel, aren't I?" Constance said in disgust.

"No, because it was pretty much trash to begin with ..." she said, taking a few steps back to get a better look at it, her arm accidentally brushing against the witch's but she took no notice.

"I painted it myself," Imogen admitted finally with shame.

Constance was surprised, "Really?" she asked, looking to the painting with new eyes. She'd originally thought she was just saving something of Imogen's, not something that the non-witch herself had created ...

Imogen nodded, glancing at the witch before turning to her creation, "It was part of my drama course I took over the summer. Stage design. I'd never painted before in my life, and it's obvious."

"I like it ..." Constance managed in a small voice, quite unlike herself, and it caused the non-witch to look over at her in puzzlement.

"I mean, it's much better than I could ever do ..."

"Well have you ever tried?"

"No, of course not."

"Then you never know," she offered with a small smile, looking back to her canvas, "The instructor said I failed to show the illusion of depth. Everything's much too bright, she said, foreground and background. It's hard to tell which is closer and which is further away."

"So what exactly did you do wrong?" Constance asked, brows furrowed as she failed to notice what was so bad about it.

"I should've made everything in the distance darker," she explained, "Things often look brighter in the foreground and darker in the background."

"Sounds more like an opinion to me," Constance scoffed.

"Well it is in the way of paintings ..."

"I see ..." Constance said, but she didn't appear convinced.

The more she looked at it, the more she found herself appreciating it. On the left, Imogen depicted a grassy hillside with flowers and sunlight ... the right, a winter wonderland, icicles hanging off the dead leaves and reeds along the frozen riverbed ... it seemed familiar somehow ...

She blushed as she realized the possibly unintentional representation of their two opposite natures. Hugging her stomach tight, she felt someone watching her, and she looked to her left, where Imogen stood.

Immediately, her green eyes flew back to the painting, pretending to be busied by simply admiring it.

"I do regret what happened, you know," Constance found herself saying before she could stop herself.

Imogen turned to look at her, expression indifferent but she could still read the hurt in her eyes as she locked her gaze on her, hoping that she could convey how she truly felt without having to go into much detail and convince the younger woman that she was indeed sorry.

"For several obvious reasons, I regret it. But ... I want you to know that it is nothing personal ..."

Imogen nodded shortly, looking to her feet, "Did you only kiss me because you drank that potion or ..." she stopped, the question itself seemed to cause her pain, and she had a look on her face like she didn't want to hear her answer for she knew it probably wouldn't be one she would want to hear ...

"No," Constance said truthfully, causing the woman to snap her head up and look at her, but the witch did not meet her eyes. She instead locked her gaze on a corner of the painting, the spring side.

"I wanted to ..." she couldn't bring herself to even say the words 'kiss you', so she left it at that, her entire body trembling slightly as she allowed her arms to fall to her waist, her fingers picking at her cuticles in her anxiety.

She felt so incredibly vulnerable at that point, the walls of the backstage area seemed to be closing in on her. Her breathing became shallow, and she wanted nothing more than to take it back, to take _everything_ back, every touch, every look, every word ...

And then, she broke her thoughts, shattering them into pieces and blowing them all away with a simple touch ... her tan hand gently brushed her pale skin, and she took her hand in her own, her thumb rubbing against her knuckles in reassurance.

Brown eyes glassy with tears, she looked up at her, still too afraid to do or say anything except look at her.

The younger woman smiled back, reaching up her other hand to stroke her cheek. The touch caused her to jump slightly, involuntarily, but she soon leaned into the touch as she closed the space between them.

All her senses seemed incredibly heightened at this point. The scent of her perfume, the feeling of her skin against hers ... even, annoyingly enough, the chatter of the students as they ate their dinner in the next room.

The girls' shouting began to get louder, whether it literally was or it was just in Constance's mind, she couldn't be entirely sure, but it was getting on her nerves and she felt the all-too-familiar impulse to teleport and check on them right away.

"I should really ... it's nothing against you," she assured quickly, squeezing her hand, "It's just ..."

Imogen nodded in understanding, her warm tan fingers slipping from her gentle grasp, but she did not move away. Instead she got closer to the witch, pressing her up against the wooden wall.

Constance's breathing became shallow as she stared into the deep green eyes of the blonde before her, her own brown eyes a mixture of fear and anticipation.

Imogen was trembling now, the closeness affecting her boldness as she stared back, fingers awkwardly gripping black satin-covered shoulders as her eyes glanced longingly at her lips.

Constance's hands, which had somehow ended up around her waist, pulled her nearer, her thumbs running in gentle circles along the non-witch's back. Their breath intermingled but neither one seemed ready to make the final move that would bring their lips together at last.

"Imogen ..." Constance managed finally in a hoarse whisper, looking positively heartbroken.

Anchoring her fingers into the silky fabric, Imogen closed the rest of the space between them and captured her lips in hers.

She went gently and carefully at first, so feather light that Constance was barely aware it had even happened, her eyes open to watch for any negative reaction and thankfully, there was none. Constance didn't react at all at first, too dazed to realize this was actually happening. She soon let her guard down and kissed back, her fingers grasping fistfuls of her t-shirt.

Emboldened by the touch, Imogen deepened the kiss, eliciting a soft moan from the witch. Constance reached up and ran her hand through that short blonde hair, finally getting to know how it felt between her fingers.

Somewhere in the dining hall, a plate fell and shattered, followed by gasps, hushed whispers and giggles, along with the shuffling of benches as the girls hurried to clean it up before the teachers came back.

The two teachers broke contact immediately once that plate hit the floor, but they did not rush to the scene just yet. Constance was torn, her instinct to be there when trouble occurred setting her nerves on fire, yet she could not bring herself to release Imogen entirely.

"You should go," Imogen said quietly with a soft encouraging smile, giving the brunette one last kiss on her lips.

Constance couldn't bring herself to speak once they finally parted. All she could do was nod, her face blank as she seemed to fully comprehend what had just happened here, and already she was mentally kicking herself for allowing such a thing to happen.

She breathed deeply, straightening her silky dress and casting a spell upon herself and Imogen to remove all their tell-tale signs. The blonde appeared both grateful and disheartened at this as she followed the witch out into the great hall, which had instantly become silent at their sudden appearance.

"Alright then, who broke what?" Constance barked, her usual cold demeanor returning at the drop of a hat along with her strength and confidence. Imogen strode casually across the stage and exited through the side door, and it took so much self control for Constance not to steal a final glance at her.

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><p>Miss Hardbroom shut the doors to the infirmary, the stress of her tiring day crashing down on her all at once as she ascended the short steps up to the main hallway. She was trying so hard to grasp exactly what happened earlier ... did Imogen only kiss her in retaliation for the kiss she'd given her the night before? Or had she really meant it? More importantly, did Constance herself really mean to kiss Imogen in the first place? Sure, she told her she meant it ... but did she?<p>

And if she did, what was to become of them? They were never friends ... they could barely stand one another. It wasn't exactly an easy foundation for them to go off from - enemies to ... lovers? The word in her mind sounded so foreign. Forget being found out by anyone - the suggestion alone that they might be having relations with one another would surely send anyone into a fit of hysterics.

"Miss Hardbroom?"

The sound of Imogen's voice caused her to involuntarily blush, a shiver running down her spine as she instinctively turned to face her.

The non-witch looked as uneasy as the witch must've looked, perhaps even more so now that she had to face the woman that was just on her mind.

"How's Mildred?" Imogen asked, and Constance's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Sorry," Imogen apologized immediately, "I saw you take her off to the sick bay ..."

That irked Constance. She must've been so furious with the girl that she hadn't noticed the non-witch watching her ... perhaps she wasn't as aware of her surroundings as she thought she was.

"She tried to magick a plate back together and she cut herself," she explained briefly, "She's fine. Miss Hawthorne's patching her up."

Imogen nodded, "Good," but she still stood there, hands in her pockets as she looked to her shoes.

An awkward silence fell between them, and she filled it immediately, "If you'll excuse me ..." she turned to leave but Imogen rushed up beside her, instinctively reaching out to touch her arm.

Constance stopped in her tracks and looked down at her hand, and she withdrew it immediately.

"I dismissed the girls already," Imogen explained, "I hope you don't mind, it was getting close to the usual time anyway and I thought ..."

"It's fine." Constance assured, allowing a soft smile to grace her lips briefly, "Thank you."

"No problem," Imogen replied quietly, flashing a nervous grin but it too faded quickly, "Constance, about earlier ..."

The witch silenced her with a slight shake of her head and a fearful gaze, and in the next moment the girls filed out of the great hall. She looked down the hallway towards the noise and watched as they passed and headed up the stairs to bed, too caught up in conversation to notice the two teachers hidden away in the shadows.

"Remember what you said earlier ... about regrets?"

Constance looked over to her, brown eyes glittering in the darkness but she said nothing.

"I don't regret it," Imogen said honestly, shaking her head, "Kissing you ..." she drifted off with a blush, but her eyes wouldn't leave hers, "I don't regret it one bit. I don't think I ever will." She let out a short humorless laugh before looking down at her feet again, regaining her composure before looking back up at the witch.

"Goodnight, Constance."

The witch stood in stunned silence, barely aware that the non-witch had slipped past her.

"Imogen ..." she managed quietly, and she thought she hadn't heard but she must've, for she turned around.

Constance didn't know what to say. Half of her wanted to shout at the woman for being so foolish and the other half wanted to snatch her up and kiss her senseless ... but she decided on neither. For once in her life, she didn't want to over-think this and blow things out of proportion - she'd have time for that later. For now, she reacted as if the blonde had said nothing at all out of the ordinary.

"Goodnight, Imogen." She said politely, and folded her arms, vanishing into thin air.

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><p><strong>(AN)**- Review? I'm currently working on the next chapter.


	11. The Loveless

**(A/N)-** Apologies for the long wait! Classes have been a real bother lately - got a quiz every week in one class and required to do a lot of reading / reviewing for two others, the other two are just annoying - 5 classes, 4 days a week, 10-6 - it wears me out! And I have a job interview tomorrow, just retail but I really need a job ... anyways. Hope you enjoy this, and please review! And thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed so far - you don't know how much it helps! :) Keep it up!

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><p><strong>- The Loveless -<strong>

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><p>"Raining again, I see." Amelia commented somberly as she passed by the sports mistress, "I imagine you aren't getting much class time?"<p>

Imogen smiled confidently, "It's on and off. Doesn't get wet enough out to cause a safety issue. The warm wind that follows dries it all up anyway."

"If you say so. You have my permission to cancel your classes altogether."

"Miss Cackle!" the blonde answered in mock surprise, "And deprive the girls of much needed physical torture?"

Amelia smiled knowingly, "Just be careful out there, Miss Drill."

"Will do."

No sooner than Miss Cackle disappeared into the staffroom did Miss Hardbroom come out of the potions lab, her high heels clicking on the stone floor as she carried two piles of old musty-looking books in her arms. The piles were so high that they almost blocked her view, but Imogen sank back against the wall anyway, wishing to disappear completely.

The two had not said a word to each other since their kiss. Granted, the kiss had happened just last night, and despite their confidence then, an cloud of awkward seemed to linger between them whenever they crossed paths.

Still, Imogen did not regret kissing her.

Constance's brown eyes glanced fleetingly over at the non-witch as she passed, and right as it happened, the books wobbled and fell from her grasping hands, collecting in a pile at her feet.

She groaned in annoyance, her eyes directed at the ceiling, before kneeling to gather them.

Imogen knelt down beside her and helped without a word, not even when the witch froze to look at her as if she had ten heads.

They grabbed for the same book at the same time, and their hands brushed. Constance recoiled at the touch and reached for another. Imogen just shook her head slightly in disbelief.

Only when they stood, each carrying ten books, did the witch manage to breathe a couple of words.

"Thank you."

Her gaze met Imogen's green eyes and she smiled, a smile which she knew the potions mistress would not return. She instead turned and headed up the staircase, Imogen in tow.

"Are you leaving?" Imogen asked suddenly - her mind had been spinning, trying to think of a reason as to why Constance would be moving so many potions books from her classroom when these books looked like they've been there for years.

"What?" Constance snapped, face scrunched in confusion, "No, of _course_ not!" she then added afterwards, "Don't get your hopes up!"

Imogen suppressed a grin.

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><p>"The girls have been snooping about, ever since Miss Cackle insisted that I keep my classroom open during independent study hours. One of my books has gone missing already, so I didn't want to take any chances. I know the culprits behind it ..."<p>

"Mildred Hubble and her friends?" Imogen replied miserably.

"Fenella and Griselda," she corrected, "It's only a matter of time before they think I've forgotten it's missing and they decide to tote it around to their classes. I'm not worried about it. It's not a dangerous book, most of the spells don't work and the ones that do, I already know the counter-spells to vanquish anything they may conjure up."

Imogen wasn't paying attention and she tripped on a stair, sending the books tumbling to the floor once again.

"I think these books don't want to be locked up," Imogen joked.

"They're books, Miss Drill. You're just being clumsy."

"Can't you use magick to bring them upstairs yourself?" she asked, unintentionally sounding nasty and she flinched afterwards, preparing for the inevitable argument.

"I've already made them lighter; I can't make them float now on account of the Foster's effect. And yes, I know, I should've cast a spell to transport them better instead of just making them lighter, but ..." her voice dropped, "... I wasn't thinking clearly."

"That's about as common as wings on pigs."

"What is?"

"You not thinking clearly."

They exchanged a look, and the witch quickly averted her eyes with a slight blush, "Just hurry it up, will you?" her pale fingers turned red as she clenched her books tight, "I don't have all day, you know."

Imogen rolled her eyes, stacking the last one into the neat pile she made, gathered it back up into her arms and stood, looking expectantly at the witch.

"Do try not to succumb to gravity again. These books are ancient and out of print."

"Yes, Miss Hardbroom," she said monotonously, sounding exactly like one of the students, an imitation which only earned her a well-directed glare.

"You can leave them here," Constance ordered as she placed her stack by her bedroom door and fiddled with the collection of keys which hung around her waist.

Imogen placed her stack next to Constance's, and as she did, the top book wobbled and fell off, causing the witch to breathe an annoyed sigh.

"Not my fault," Imogen excused.

The title of the book was embossed in gold, and she couldn't help but read it.

_'Love Potions for the Loveless'_

Her heart dropped into her stomach.

"Can you please go?" Constance asked irritably, her hand on the doorknob, "Morgana's in there and she doesn't take kindly to unwanted guests."

Constance hadn't meant it personally, but Imogen took it that way, her mind still numb from the sight of that book. She didn't bother to hide the hurt in her face as she looked up at her, and she purposefully slammed the book back on top of the pile, causing the whole bunch to topple once more.

"Imogen!" she snapped furiously as one of the books knocked her in the leg.

But the blonde stormed off to teach her next class, leaving the brunette in stunned silence.

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><p>Just when Imogen Drill thought her day couldn't get any worse, a downpour happened right in the middle of her last class of the day. Of course, it had been raining on and off all day but this rain was different than the rest - it was relentless, and it was accompanied by thunder and lightning to boot.<p>

Naturally, the girls ran shrieking towards the shelter of the castle as if they could quite literally melt under the heavy raindrops. Usually, she'd shout at them to come back and get them to help her put away the equipment, but she wasn't quite herself today.

If this day was going to kick her butt, she was going to let it.

Nothing mattered anymore.

Not since she'd read the title of that book ...

An all-too-familiar voice rang out across the courtyard and set her heart aflutter, much to her annoyance, even though it was not directed at her.

"Quickly girls, inside at once!"

Imogen willed herself not to look up. Hell if she was going to give her the satisfaction. She didn't think she'd ever be able to look at the witch again, not after earlier ... her heart still yearned for a small glimpse of the woman, despite it all. Perhaps she really had cast a love spell on her.

Thunder rumbled nearby, and Imogen stopped in her tracks, second-guessing bringing in the volleyball poles lest they become lightning rods. She felt the witch staring at her as the last of the girls piled in, and reluctantly she looked over, squinting as the rain drops poured down her eyebrows - she could barely see her. With a defeated sigh, she snatched up the last of the volleyballs and ran back into the sports shed.

A flash blinded her eyes as she placed the balls back on the rack, and she jumped out of her skin, her thoughts madly racing to the conclusion that the shed had just been struck, but it hadn't. Instead, the four volleyball poles stood before her, the nets still attached and soaked from the rain.

She stared at them dumbfounded for a moment before briskly walking back to the shed doors, but Constance was gone.

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><p>Imogen crept into the staffroom amidst a lively conversation between Davina and Amelia regarding desserts. She didn't bother to listen in, for her eyes immediately fell upon the black-clad witch who sat alone at the staffroom table with her nose buried in a book entitled 'Seemingly Useless Potions'. She bit back a grin at this.<p>

"You'll never believe what happened to me just before," Imogen said casually as she slipped past her to refill her water bottle.

Constance looked over at her, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "What?"

"My volleyball poles put themselves away."

A slight blush was visible on her pale features.

"I'm afraid you must be losing your mind, Miss Drill." she said suddenly, looking positively coy, "I knew it was only a matter of time."

Imogen smiled as she closed the tap, screwing the cap back on her bottle.

"Thank you."

Constance offered a shy smile in return, but a gentle sigh from the other end of the room caused her to glance over in the direction of the sound, and her smile fell.

Imogen looked over to see Davina with her hands clasped, looking between the two adoringly, "It's so nice to see you two finally getting along."

Constance bit the inside of her cheek to refrain from making a smart remark, and with a roll of her eyes she returned to her book with an intense glare.

"We've always gotten along." Imogen said casually.

This caused an involuntary reaction from Amelia, who'd been politely pretending not to notice her colleague's odd behavior, for at this statement she spluttered into her tea.

It was Davina's turn to roll her eyes, "If by getting along you mean arguing over every little thing, then _yes_, you two get along just splendidly."

"Is it really any of your business, Davina?" Imogen asked restlessly.

Constance stood suddenly, closing her book with a loud thud. She left without a word nor glance, as if none of them were there in the first place.

"Now you've done it," Amelia said miserably, sitting down in her armchair by the fireplace.

"_Me_?" The two chorused unintentionally, and exchanged frowns.

"Haven't you two learned anything by now?" she sighed, "You should never acknowledge it when Constance does something out of the ordinary. You only wind up embarrassing her and ensuring it never happens again."

"It wasn't me who pointed it out," Imogen reminded, folding her arms.

Davina let out a small high pitched cry.

"I couldn't help it, headmistress!" she apologized frantically, "I've just never seen her that way before! She rarely smiles as it is!"

"Not helping, Davina," Imogen muttered with a sigh, striding towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Amelia asked concernedly, sounding as if she already knew the answer.

"To oversee the girls' supper."

"Imogen ..." the headmistress warned, peering at her over her horn-rimmed spectacles.

"I'm not going to bother her, if that's what you're thinking," she replied in exasperation, rolling her eyes, "I don't have a death wish."

And she strode off down the hallway to have a word with Miss Hardbroom.

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><p><strong>(AN)**- Sorry it's not as long as the others - next chapter should be mostly from HB's point of view and it should go straight into Cackle's Birthday Surprise from there. Please review! It means the world to me! :)


	12. Think About It

**(A/N)**- Sorry this took so long! I want you to know that although I'm not mentioning the love spell book any time soon it will come up - I hadn't forgotten! I'm sorry if it's a bit OOC, it just seemed to work with me and I'll offer a brief explanation at the bottom. Thank you so much you guys for reviewing! :)

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><p><strong>- Think About It -<strong>

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><p>"Miss Hardbroom?" Imogen called, knocking gently on the doorframe as she peered into the potions lab.<p>

Constance looked up from the cauldron at her desk, lips pursed slightly, her eyes narrowed. She looked back to her cauldron, pretending to be distracted.

"Come in," she called vaguely, catching the charmed spoon in mid-spin and manually stirring the pot, adding in some crushed mint leaves.

She tensed as the non-witch neared, eyes focusing more intently on the bluish color of the liquid before her, determined not to raise her eyes to catch so much as a glimpse of her.

Constance spoke suddenly, finally putting to words what had been on her mind since Davina's little comment.

"We shouldn't be seen speaking to one another."

She looked at the blonde square in the eye, "Don't take it personally, it's just neither of us can afford a scandal. It's not like us to have ... _playful banter_," she scrunched up her nose, feeling foolish for not being able to describe their exchange any other way.

The blonde nodded, her gaze sort of blank, "Of course ... suppose we should just go back to insulting one another again."

Constance sighed in annoyance, tossing her eyes to the ceiling, "I told you not to take it personally."

"Look, if you didn't want things to change between us then you shouldn't have let me-"

"_Not_ another word," she said seriously, holding a finger up to silence her, "We work in a school for children. Magickal children, but children none the less. There are eyes and ears all around us. We need to behave like responsible adults-"

Imogen laughed humorlessly, "Bit late for that, don't you think? After all it was you who started it."

"Me?" she hissed in annoyance, eyes ablaze.

"Do you really want me to remind you?"

"It was _you_ who started it!" she snapped, "Halloween night, you complimented me-"

"A nice gesture, that's all. I'm not going to lie and say I didn't fancy you then, but if you hadn't reciprocated my advances-"

"All right, _all right_!" she nearly shouted, flapping her hands wildly at her in an exaggerated attempt to shush her, "We both had a hand in it, we're both to blame - but it has to end."

"Does it?" Imogen asked aloud but she sounded as if she was asking herself as her finger trailed the lines in the wood as she stood beside the teacher's desk.

"Yes, it _does_." Constance replied firmly, and the non-witch looked up, not convinced.

"We can make it work. I mean, no one has to know. At least give it a shot, we've gotten this far ..."

"Give _what_ a 'shot', exactly?" the witch asked skeptically.

"Us. _This_." She looked to the older woman's hand but refrained taking it in hers, "You never know if there could be something so much more between us. I fancy you. And I think you fancy me ... don't you?"

The witch blushed at her blunt words, and looked away, "Imogen, we _can't_."

"Why not?"

"There are enough obvious reasons that I really don't think need to be pointed out ..."

"_Forget_ those reasons and just take a chance for once!" Imogen cried out insistingly, finally taking both hands in hers, eyes gazing pleadingly into her scared brown eyes, "You're so stuck in your routine; can't you break it, just this once, and ... follow your heart?"

Constance's lips were pursed tight, eyes glassed over. For once in her life, she really didn't know what to say. The word 'no' threatened to escape her lips, but she knew she didn't mean it. She just hated the unfamiliar. To take a chance with Imogen would be akin to jumping off the school's highest tower and hoping she'd survive unscathed.

Her fearful eyes glanced at the clock on the wall, and she quickly slipped her hands out of the non-witch's grasp, "It's nearly time for class. You must leave at once."

Imogen nodded, tears filling her own eyes as she looked away, "Yep," was all she could manage, slipping her hands into her pants pockets as she walked out. Constance held her breath, watching the back of her head as she left. Imogen stopped at the door, turning to look at her. Constance willed herself to look away, but she found herself locking eyes with the woman instead.

"Think about it," Imogen said, trying to smile but failing miserably, and she chewed on her lip instead as she disappeared down the hall.

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><p>Constance suggested to Miss Cackle that they hold a sports week for the girls, requiring that the first years spend a double period of P.E. rather than a double period of Potions. The girls rejoiced at first, but could soon be found moaning and groaning as they trudged tirelessly through the halls to their lockers to wash up a bit and change their clothes. It was the first day and the only one who could be found smiling broadly was one Imogen Drill.<p>

Constance found herself smiling as well, only when no one was looking of course. For once in her life, she was genuinely happy, and probably for all the wrong reasons. Not only did she get rid of the first years for a half an hour each day, but Imogen was occupied and smiling despite the fact Constance had still not given her a straight answer.

She looked a right mess earlier that day, having not bothered to comb her hair much at all and she appeared to have not gotten much sleep either. She wouldn't look at Constance, not until after Amelia announced Sports week. Constance had a feeling Imogen suspected her of being behind it all, and although it wasn't an answer to her question, at least it was an attempt to make peace, to a degree.

_Gods, she hoped Imogen didn't suspect that this meant '_**yes**_'._

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><p>"Mildred Hubble is at it again," Constance growled, narrowing her eyes.<p>

"Do come away from the window, Constance!" Amelia scolded, "Your tea's getting cold."

The tall witch reluctantly tore her eyes away from the scene and sat in her usual chair, "Mildred's just enchanted the vaulting horse and Imo- Miss _Drill_," she corrected herself, rolling her eyes, "- has just let her off without a punishment!"

"I'm sure she's sentenced her to detention later, and after all, isn't Sports week enough of a punishment?"

"Hmm," Constance agreed somewhat, but she still did not believe Mildred would get anywhere in life if her bad behavior went unpunished. At this rate, it was bound to get worse.

And it did.

It wasn't long after the two had witnessed Mildred leave the grounds to join in Miss Drill's race that Mildred had appeared in the staffroom, standing on the table. Not long after that, she'd disappeared, only to soon be found cowering in the doorway as Ethel explained what happened and mourned the loss of her very new and very expensive violin. Enraged, Miss Cackle brought the disobedient girl into her office with her deputy in tow.

After a good talking to with Mildred, Miss Cackle sentenced her to three weeks without privileges, threatening to leave her out of the school trip if she got into trouble again.

The madness did not end there, for Imogen came bursting into Miss Cackle's office, asking if they'd seen Mildred and Enid, who mysteriously did not return from their run. Miss Cackle explained to her what had happened, and Miss Hardbroom jumped down her throat.

"If you had sentenced her to detention after the first sign of trouble, none of this would have happened."

"Excuse me?" Imogen asked incredulously.

"I saw what she did to the vaulting horse -"

"No one was hurt!"

"That's besides the point!"

"Enough!" Miss Cackle shouted, stepping between the two, "What's done is done, there's no use pinning the blame."

Imogen excused herself and left, but not before shooting a glare in Constance's direction. The witch followed her out, heading back to her own classroom but she stopped halfway, just before the sports mistress was about to exit to the courtyard. She hooked her hand in the crook of her arm and led her away like a troublesome pupil and taking her into the small and empty locker room.

"Leave me be!" she snapped, swatting her hand away as she tried to leave, but the witch blocked her path with her arm.

Swiftly, she pressed the shorter woman against the wall and silenced her with her lips. It was so quick that if one blinked they would've missed it, but it quieted the non-witch instantly, causing her to gaze in shock at the brunette before her.

"You're completely daft sometimes, do you know that? Of all the students to lose track of! You should've been keeping a much closer eye on the girl."

"I've been a bit distracted as of late," she breathed, blushing as her gaze fell to the top button of the witch's dress, and her fingers followed in a daze.

"This can't happen." Constance said in a hush, closing her hand over hers and holding it there briefly before releasing her, eyes saddening, "I'm sorry."

"Why'd you kiss me then?" Imogen asked, angry with her.

"Who could resist?" she asked in a half laugh, attempting to smile but it faded before it could happen, and she peeked out of the doorway into the hall.

"The girls will wonder where you're at."

She looked back to the sports mistress, who grabbed hold of her collar and kissed her just as briefly as Constance did just before. The witch jumped as if shocked, and pulled away too late.

"I said _no_!" she hissed, eyes wide.

"Payback," she replied simply with a wry grin, "_Couldn't resist_."

Constance looked downright infuriated.

"Alright, that's it, promise," she said, going from amused to disappointed in that short sentence, but she forced a smile anyway, "No hard feelings."

She left confidently as if everything had gone back to normal, but on the way to the potions lab Constance caught her stopping before the double doors, running a hand through her short hair and shoulders sagged, looking particularly defeated. With a deep breath in and out, she threw the doors open and blew her whistle, calling the girls to put all the equipment back so she could prepare for her next class.

Constance decided to trudge on as well, and forget all this, and with a deep breath, she unlocked her classroom door and set the students' supplies up on all the desks with a single flick of the wrist. She felt calm and collected, confident enough to carry on and behave as if none of this had never happened.

By the time she'd reached her desk, she broke down into silent tears, her head in her hands.

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><p><strong>(AN)**- I figured Imogen has probably had relationships before and would be used to being rejected and stuff, and Constance isn't used to that sort of thing since she hasn't really been with anyone before, or felt this way about another person ... but we'll get to that, eventually. ;P Sorry if it still seems a tad OOC. Please review, and be nice! I might go straight into Great Outdoors from here.


	13. Old Love, New Love

**(A/N)**- Quickest update ever! But I guess this makes up for the last one - glad you all liked it but I was on the fence about it ... if you were just lying to make me feel better and make me continue, this one more than makes up for it! I hope ... I was quite pleased with it anyway. I wanted to get it done tonight and it's now after 3am! Oy. Anyway, thanks so much to all my reviewers! Seriously, all those review alerts made my day. And I've been pretty depressed as of late - you don't know how much they mean to me. Best pick-me-up ever. :D Anyways, on with the story! :)

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><p><strong>- Old Love, New Love -<strong>

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><p>Imogen Drill sat towards the back of the coach bus, directing the girls to sit in pairs directly in front of her, kindly asking fellow commuters if they could sit somewhere else so that she could keep a closer eye on them. The girls rolled their eyes in embarrassment as the locals agreed, taking seats on the opposite side of the bus.<p>

Once they were all seated, she slunk down into her double-seat with an exhausted sigh. Not even on the road yet and she was already overwhelmed. They wouldn't have had to take public transportation if it weren't for Mildred's little mishap about a month ago with Ethel's violin.

"_Quiet down_, girls!" Constance Hardbroom ordered, causing the sports mistress to jump to attention as the witch sat directly beside her with her luggage - a large black bag that seemed to be rather empty and a closed umbrella, which she held out before her with her hand closed tightly over the top, like a staff ... or a broom ...

"Want me to help you with that?" Imogen asked with a smile only to be met with a defensive flinch.

"I'd much rather keep them at my feet, thank you very much."

"I was only going to put them in the overhead ..." she replied in a small voice.

The potions mistress glared dangerously at her, and she backed off, pretending to be distracted by the bus driver and Frank Blossom as they loaded the girls' rucksacks into the storage compartment under the bus.

She thought of something to say to Constance, but the words would not come. What was there to say to her anymore, anyway? She hadn't been the same since they'd come to terms with one another. The days that followed had been awkward and quiet, and eventually things went back to usual contempt for one another. Imogen hadn't meant for it to, but Constance was continually gearing up for a fight and eventually Imogen had returned the favor.

Imogen gazed around the bus at the regulars, and they all seemed curious about Constance, whispering, pointing, and looking ... and Imogen soon saw why.

"Constance," she said under her breath, inwardly cursing herself for using her first name after all this time, "Your hat."

The witch didn't argue; quickly she whipped off her steepled hat once she saw the strange looks she was getting. Looking rather embarrassed and worried, she glanced at the blonde who had to hide a laugh behind her hand.

"Sorry," she apologized quickly, "I'd forgotten as well,"

Constance brushed invisible dust from her hat as it rested in her lap.

"You'd think they'd never seen a witch before," she muttered finally in annoyance, and Imogen snickered. Constance looked over at her, and the sports mistress could've sworn she saw an amused smile before she looked away, clearing her throat.

It wasn't long before the bus started up, and the girls enthusiastically cheered in farewell to the Academy as well as the other group who hadn't left yet. Imogen eyed the witch, who at once opened her mouth to tell them off, but before she could make a sound, Imogen's fingers enclosed gently around her wrist, causing her to look down and then over at her again with a blush and a scowl.

Imogen didn't need to say anything, and if she had, she couldn't have been heard over the noise anyway. She simply shook her head, and Constance settled back into her seat with an annoyed huff, arms folded tightly like a school girl about to have a temper tantrum.

Imogen couldn't help but smile, forcing herself to look away lest the sight of her grinning ear to ear further enraged the deputy headmistress. She waved to the girls and her colleagues as the bus turned around and made it's way down the lane to start their hour and a half long journey to the campsite.

That is, it would have been an hour and a half, if they had gotten a private bus, but this bus still had a handful of stops to make before it reached their destination.

The sound of a toilet flushing made Constance look around in slight horror, and Imogen wished she could disappear into the cushions.

"Is there really a loo on this thing?" the witch asked in a hush, but by the tone Imogen could tell she was outraged.

"Did you really have to seat us so close to it?!" she hissed when Imogen didn't respond.

"Nobody told you to sit here," Imogen replied dully, staring out the window.

It was then Constance noticed the short line that had formed to use it, and one of the people who was waiting in said line was sitting directly across the aisle facing her. It was a scraggly-looking old man with a kind face.

"Hello, old love," he greeted.

Imogen knew right then and there that with those three words he'd quite literally opened a portal to hell. She looked over to see her colleague's reaction. Constance's eyes were focused directly ahead, lips pursed.

"Never seen you lot 'ere before. Whereabouts are you 'eaded?"

Since Constance didn't appear to want to speak to him anytime soon, Imogen leaned over, offering a hand to shake, "Imogen Drill," she introduced.

"Timothy Bridge," he said with a toothy grin.

Constance's eyes dropped a moment to look disapprovingly at their handshake but said nothing, quickly resuming to her usual forward stare.

"We're just taking the girls out camping for a couple of days."

"That's nice of yeh, kids these days don't get enough fresh air and sunshine, always playing with them electronic gadgets and watchin' the telly, you know ..."

The two chatted a while until the old man took notice of Constance again.

"Your friend here, she don't talk much does she?"

Imogen made an uneasy smile but said nothing, and the witch got to her feet, belongings in hand. The man's legs were in the way of the aisle, and instead of asking him to kindly move, she threatened him under her breath.

"Step aside unless you want to be turned into a blob of green slime," she gestured dismissively with her hand, and the old man, terrified out of his wits as he wasn't used to witnessing one of Constance's unsettling glares, quickly moved out of her way and into the nearest empty seat, closer to the loo.

"Where are you going?" Imogen asked in a sigh, but she did not receive an answer, as expected.

The witch sat up front in an empty seat just in front of Mildred and her gang, who immediately quieted down at the sight of their form mistress.

Imogen apologized to Timothy, although he didn't seem to hear her. She pulled her legs up under her and stared out the window at the passing trees, allowing herself to rest her eyes for a bit.

This was going to be a _long_ trip.

* * *

><p>First '<em>old love<em>', now '_maiden aunt_' ... she'd certainly damned herself with that one. It was such a hurried excuse and a downright bad one to begin with. What sort of an idiot would believe that they were related, let alone that Constance was that much older than her?

_'The same idiot who couldn't figure out that they were witches' _she thought in despair as she looked to the girls' tents which resembled witch's hats.

"Would you like to roast some marshmallows? I brought more than enough."

She smiled at the Canadian ranger, unintentionally blushing under his adoring gaze. She'd only just met him and already she was smitten. It was amazing how much they hand in common ... but she had to remind herself not to lose her head, things like this had all-too-often were too good to be true.

It was odd to think she'd taken to Constance so quickly when neither of them had much in common aside from teaching ...

Her eyes drifted over to the witch who was still in a bit of a stew, rocking back and forth on that damned rocking chair, a foul look in her eyes. Imogen could've swore she'd felt those eyes on her, but they appeared to be glued to be focused on the umbrella which sat closed in her lap.

"Sure, Serge," she said, taking him up on his offer, "I'll just be a moment."

She approached the witch with her head down, watching the ground was she stepped, hands in her coat pockets. The rocking chair seemed to slow as she approached, but it did not stop entirely.

"Look, I know you're cross with me," Imogen began, "I didn't ask for this to happen. But we've got to make the best of things, and there's no reason for you to be sulking on the porch for the remainder of our trip."

The rocking stopped, and she stared up at her expressionless from under that ridiculously adorable black bonnet of hers.

"I'm sorry I called you my maiden aunt. I panicked. I didn't expect-"

"You could have just called me your colleague." She replied in clipped tones, "Instead you chose to insult me."

"I didn't do it on purpose!" she exclaimed, and lowered her voice after glancing over at the girls.

"Please, just make an effort. We're going to be here for two nights as it is."

Constance remained silent, her hand perched on her umbrella handle as she stared off into the distance.

With a sigh of defeat, the sports mistress got down on her knees.

The witch's eyes widened at the sight of this, "What do you think you're _doing_?" she hissed, suddenly afraid as she looked towards her students who were too distracted by marshmallows to notice anything.

"Please, Miss Hardbroom, I'm begging you." she pleaded quietly.

"You're making a fool of yourself, it's very unprofessional!" she seethed, hoping her insults would bring the non-witch to her feet, but she remained.

"You don't have to enjoy it, just be present. Please?" she asked again, gripping the arm rest of the chair, "It's all I'm asking."

"Oh, you mean along with your '_no magick_' policy?" Constance reminded, but she finally gave in, too overwhelmed by the woman's closeness despite their present company, "_Fine_, I'll make an attempt, now go away."

Imogen refrained from making an accomplished smile as she left the witch to get settled in the cabin. She finally caved and smiled as she approached Serge, who greeted her with a sharpened stick ready for toasting marshmallows.

Constance soon emerged, her traveling cloak and bonnet stowed away in the cabin. She looked slightly better off; her usual scowl didn't appear so deep, and her face immediately softened when she caught Imogen gazing at her from the fireside. Constance attempted a small smile, but it was short lived, for Serge tore the blonde's eyes away as he began to boast about his previous trips into the great outdoors.

Imogen felt torn for a moment, but it was only a moment, as she inwardly reminded herself that whatever she had with Constance was over and she had to accept it sooner or later. That thought in mind, she gave her full attention to Serge as he talked about white-water-rafting in America.

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><p>Imogen should've known Constance would not be able to resist appearing from nowhere. And Constance should've known Imogen would come up with some crazy excuse for this behavior.<p>

'_Strange oriental art of silent running' _... she rolled her eyes at the ridiculousness of it. Constance seemed to like it, at least.

One thing was certain, she did not like Serge Dubois one bit.

_'Immature young man?'_ Imogen thought, dumbfounded, _'young, yes, but immature? How could she make such an assumption? They'd only just met him!'_

But she was not about to tell Constance off about him. It was clear she didn't want to hear a single word about any redeeming qualities the man has shown her thus far. She hadn't even been here an hour, and she already admired him greatly. She wished she could've traveled as much as he did, but teaching at Cackle's didn't allow her much time to actually go places, other than on holiday ...

She didn't want to tell anyone, but she suddenly felt so trapped by her current position. Serge was obviously at least five years younger than her, and he'd already done so much! And what did Imogen have to show for herself? A couple of hiking trips to nearby campsites and several races. She wasn't getting any younger ...

And what was there to keep her at Cackle's? Certainly not Constance, and if it was, it was only the tiny niggling feeling of hope that the witch would change her mind and give them a chance at something more. Imogen loved Amelia and Davina dearly, as well as the rest of the castle staff, but she knew they could easily move on without her. The only thing keeping her was the girls, and even that wouldn't be enough for they dreaded her lessons every day and she was quickly becoming an HB-carbon-copy.

"Have you ever gone skiing?" Serge asked, snapping her out of her thoughts.

Imogen felt ashamed, "No, can't say I have."

"Well, if you don't have any plans for your next break, would you like to join me? I own a timeshare not far from here. I can show you the ropes."

Imogen smiled shyly, "Sounds great."

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><p><strong>(AN)**- Review! I'll try and continue ASAP!


	14. The Storm

**(A/N)-** If this seems slightly OOC to you, consider Imogen being in a complete state of panic over the safety of the girls and the consequences of her misjudgements and all will make sense. Also consider HB and her ever conflicting emotions. I accidentally made this a tad more dramatic than originally intended - blame my muses. I hope you enjoy! This is probably my longest chapter yet! Thanks to all who have reviewed so far - don't give up on me! Even if it takes ten years I plan to complete this! But I hope it doesn't take that long ...

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><p><strong>- The Storm -<strong>

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><p>Miss Hardbroom decided that if Imogen didn't want magick on this trip, there was no reason for her to be there in the first place. She had considering leaving. She had the means to, having magicked her broom into an umbrella … but she trashed that idea knowing full well that Miss Cackle would never let her hear the end of it.<p>

She wondered if Amelia had told Imogen the same thing she told her. Surely she couldn't have. Imogen was far too infatuated with the scout troop leader to want to fix things between her and the witch. Constance knew they wouldn't return to the school the best of friends, but she wanted to at least reach a common ground with the non-witch, if only to maintain peace in the staffroom.

Constance offered up a suggestion that the girls take part in separate activities, perhaps to go herb-picking on a grassy hillside somewhere … but Imogen shot that down before she could finish, arguing that the boys being here was a great opportunity for them to socialize with ordinary children and learn some self-control regarding their abilities. Not wanting to waste her breath any longer, Constance contended to staying in the cabin for the rest of the day, excusing that she supposedly 'came for the good of her health' and that she should get some rest. Imogen apologized yet again for calling her a maiden aunt and urged the witch to come and join them but Constance refused. Before the non-witch could attempt to persuade her further, Serge, eager to start the day, knocked once and poked his head in and Imogen left with him before he could utter a single word.

Constance went to the window and sent a small spell his way, causing his hat to pull down over his eyes. Imogen looked over with a scowl, to witch Constance returned a satisfied smirk, and returned to her book.

No, Constance wasn't jealous. She was disgusted. Imogen had only just met him and already she held such respect and admiration for the man. What on earth did she see in him, anyway? Furthermore, who did she think she was fooling? Constance had no knowledge of the non-witch's previous relationships (or if she even had any) but it was obvious to her at least that Imogen had no interest in men.

But then there were never any men at Cackle's, save for Mr. Blossom …

She decided that Imogen was just trying to make her jealous, to see her reaction. Throughout the day she could hear the blonde's infectious laughter emitted due to something the ranger did or said.

There was once a small period in time where Constance used to make her laugh … wasn't there?

Scowling, she snapped her book shut and strode over to the window, peering through the curtain. She soon caught sight of the sports mistress off in the distance, leaning against a tree as Serge spoke to her. Her face was the image of pure happiness, grinning ear to ear as she hung on his every word, her green eyes sparkling as she gazed into his eyes …

Constance began to doubt Imogen had ever looked at her in such a way …

Biting back the urge to send another spell his way, she yanked the curtains closed and returned to her book, shoving the rest of the world out as she focused solely on the magickal properties of stones and crystals.

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><p>Silence fell upon the campgrounds.<p>

Miss Hardbroom bookmarked her page and placed her book on the table, crossing the room to peer out the window.

Not a soul in sight.

Fear crept into her heart, but she quickly reassured herself that they must've gone off on a hike or something.

But Imogen would've told her, surely?

She wrenched the cabin door open and looked about before stepping out into the freezing air. She hadn't bothered to fetch her cloak, not after Imogen referred to her as a maiden aunt. The bonnet seemed to make matters worse. A shiver ran through her slender frame, chilling her to the core. She relented and cast a small spell on herself, not to warm herself up entirely but to at least be enough to avoid frostbite.

She trekked up and over the small hill and down towards the river, figuring they might've gone fishing. It wasn't long before she heard voices, just a couple, but it was better than nothing.

She followed the sounds, unable to make out exactly what was being said. She came upon them eventually, sitting with their backs to her on a fallen log, their knees touching as they spoke in undertones. They were holding hands, their fingers entwined.

The witch's insides seemed to twist and knot, aching terribly at the sight of them. It was nothing like anything she had ever felt before. She couldn't pinpoint why, having convinced herself over a month ago that this woman no longer meant anything to her.

It was miraculous when it had happened, as if she managed to flip off a switch on her heart. That was it; her feelings for Imogen were gone, as if she had never had them in the first place. Never again was she overcome with the overwhelming urge to snatch her up and kiss her face. She _certainly_ wasn't overcome with that feeling now. She didn't know what she felt.

All she could think of was the possibility that Serge might …

Just as the thought entered her mind, he leaned in close, pretending to brush a stray hair from the blonde's eyes as he leaned in for a kiss.

Constance folded her arms tight and disappeared.

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><p>The cabin door flew open, sending a flurry of white specks into the room. It didn't take long for Constance to realize they were snowflakes, as Imogen shut the door behind her and brushed the snow off of her jacket.<p>

Constance said nothing, assuming that the weather was just acting strange. It was, after all, cold enough to snow outside anyway. She sipped her tea and stared into the fireplace that she still refused to light.

"Miss Hardbroom …" Imogen breathed, "I think we might have a problem."

"You mean you and _Serge_ have a problem," she drawled.

"Have you looked out your window lately?" Imogen asked impatiently, ignoring that last remark.

The witch looked at her, and glanced at the window. In a huff, she got to her feet and crossed the room, placing her teacup down on the table as she passed.

She gazed out into the swirling whiteness and up into the grey storm clouds brewing overhead. As she looked about, she caught a glimpse of Serge at the corner of her eye, standing at the edge of the porch and struggling to keep warm. A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"Is it magick?"

"Oh, it's magick alright. Girls up to their old tricks again?"

She explained the Foster's Effect swiftly and simply as possible to the non-witch, pacing the floor as she did, stopping back at the window.

"You've got to do something," Imogen urged, standing at her side.

"Oh? Have I?" she asked in mock-surprise, looking out into the storm. It was getting worse by the minute.

Imogen leaned nearer to gaze out the window as well, unintentionally getting way too close to the witch. Constance glanced down at her and cleared her throat, inching away.

Imogen blushed but said nothing, turning away from her and crossing the room.

"I know you saw us."

Constance stiffened, pretending not to have heard the non-witch as her brown eyes returned to the blizzard outside.

"You may think you're quiet but I heard you disappear."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I didn't intend for you to … I didn't want …"

Constance looked over just as Imogen ran a hand through her short blonde hair, ruffling it up a bit in anxiety, "Please don't punish them on account of me."

Constance looked at her with those same calm, collected eyes, pretending not to have heard a word she said but at the same time she was mulling it over in her head. She didn't want the girls to suffer, but Imogen needed to be taught a lesson.

The blonde was getting impatient, and she began to pace the floor, stopping to look out the window once more, "The girls' lives could be in _danger_, Miss Hardbroom," she insisted, rounding on the witch.

"Then it is you, and Mr. Dubois, who have put them in that danger."

"Whatever you say, just-just-just" she stuttered, searching for the words, "… _do_ a spell to stop the blizzard."

"Oh a spell?" Constance asked sarcastically, "A _magick_ spell?"

"Before it's too late!"

She looked away, unable to fight the small smile that crept across her lips. Finally the woman was seeing things her way. The girls were not ordinary girls – they were bound to use their magick sooner or later. Had Imogen not sent them out into the wilderness on a silly scavenger hunt, they would've remained at the campsite and under the watchful eye of their form tutor. Had Imogen not sent them out, they wouldn't have used magick. Had Imogen not sent them out, they would've been safe.

Imogen sighed, "I'm sorry I left them on their own. I did go out to look for them, shortly after, well …" she blushed, looking down, "Nothing happened … between Serge and I …"

"Miss Drill, are you just going to stand there and fill the air with unnecessary information whilst you could be out there looking for the girls?" Constance asked flatly.

"I-I thought …" she faltered, her voice small.

"I don't care, Miss Drill. Whoever you're seeing, whatever you're doing – I. _Don't_. Care." She seethed, "I only care when it affects your position as a teacher. Instead of chaperoning the girls, you saw fit to send both parties off into the wilderness so you could have some time alone with a forest ranger you've only just met!"

"Constance …"

"That's Miss _Hardbroom_ to you, Miss Drill, and don't you forget it. I am your superior, I am the deputy headmistress of this school and you should treat me with respect. You do realize that when Miss Cackle finds out what's happened you may very well lose your position at the Academy."

"And what about you?" Imogen asked, her voice shaking "Is it not illegal to be brewing love potions?"

"What?" Constance asked, completely blind-sided.

"That day I helped you bring books to your room, I saw a book …"

"- that was being kept for educational purposes; I've never used a single one!"

"Are you so sure about that?" Imogen asked, choking back a sob despite herself.

"You're not seriously trying to blackmail me, are you?" Constance asked, eyes livid, "Because believe you me, I would _never_ use a love spell and if I had, I wouldn't have wasted it on someone like you."

The words fell from her lips before she could stop them. Constance's eyes reluctantly met Imogen's in time to see the look of hurt, and it sent a horrible pain in the heart of the witch who wasn't supposed to have one.

"Good," Imogen replied calmly, straight-faced, and the room fell silent after that.

The wind continued to howl outside, the strength of it seeming to get louder or perhaps that was just the sound of the blood rushing in their ears. They refused to look at each other.

"I'm not fit to be in charge," Imogen admitted quietly, expecting the witch to retort, but she remained silent, staring off into space.

"I want you to be in charge again. I _need_ you to be in charge."

"First you accuse me of using illegal magick, and then you claim to still want my help."

"I'm sorry, alright? I panicked!" she threw her arms up in annoyance, "I don't want to lose my job over a stupid mistake like this, but more than that, I don't want the girls to _die_ because of me!"

Constance looked over at her, her eyes flickering to the window briefly.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Miss Hardbroom," Imogen said, at a complete loss for words for nothing appeared to be getting through to the witch. So she could only resort to pleading.

"Be in charge."

"_Please_ be in charge again?"

"If you want me to get down on my knees, Miss Hardbroom, I _will_ do!"

Constance's eyes never left hers, but she felt as if she couldn't see her anymore. It was as if the Imogen she thought she knew had never existed, that she'd made her all up, and in her place was this very frightened and very straight shell of a being. She realized that she never really knew Imogen in the first place. What was her favorite food? What did she take with her tea? What was she like as a child? Silly questions like those seemed to keep cropping up in her mind … and Constance suddenly felt like she was being unfair. What right did she have to question Imogen's feelings for someone she'd only just met, when Constance herself had fallen for someone she barely knew at all? She had at least three years to get to know this woman. And yet she knew nothing about her aside from the obvious.

Fed up with herself, Constance made to say something, anything, to try to take them back to the beginning and start anew … but the door flew open in that next instance, and Serge came lumbering in.

She looked over at the man, and back at the non-witch at her feet, conveying her annoyance at his intrusion as well as her eagerness to continue the conversation in a single glance.

Her anger returned when Serge referred to her as Imogen's aunt, and she bit the inside of her cheek to refrain from saying anything at all.

The two left to search for the girls, and the witch acted on the impulse to make things right again, rather than sticking with her pride and letting everyone suffer for their consequences. Flexing her spell-casting fingers, the witch strode out of the cabin and turned to the heavens, magicking her witch's hat atop her head for the added sense of security and power. The cold wind whipped and bit at her skin, sending a slight shiver up her spine, but she did not yield. She pointed her fingers to the swirling sky above, whispering the words of the spell that would quell the violent storm, wishing she could do the same for the storm she'd just created between her and a certain non-witch.

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><p><strong>(AN)-** Please be gentle!


	15. Making Amends

**(A/N)-** Sorry for the long wait! I won't let this fic die! Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed! Enjoy! :)

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><p><strong>- Making Amends -<strong>

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><p>"Inside, at once!" Miss Hardbroom called in a stern voice, opening the cabin door. Heads down, the girls obeyed as they filed past her. Miss Drill stood awkwardly beside Serge, half wanting to be involved and half wanting to run for the hills.<p>

"You too, Miss Drill," she said in a tone that was a lot less stern, but still her brown eyes bore into hers, causing her to look at her sneakers. She took a step forward, but Serge stopped her.

"Should I come?" he asked under his breath, "It was my fault, too"

"No, it's fine," she said, offering a grim smile as she stepped away from his touch, striding past the tents and onto the small porch, eyes meeting the witch's briefly before she stepped inside.

"Are we going to be suspended?" she heard Enid murmur to Mildred, and Imogen touched her shoulder.

"Don't worry, girls." She assured with a smile, and at the next moment, Miss Hardbroom brushed past, eying her. Feeling ashamed, she stepped over by the opposite wall of the cabin, facing the girls.

Constance stood in the center of the room, arms folded.

"Do you understand how serious this is?" she asked incredulously, looking around at them, "You risked exposing yourselves to people who are unaware of magick! Not only that, you resorted to childish behavior, casting spells at one another until you created a storm that could've killed you all!"

Her eyes were livid as she stared down each and every one of them. The girls cast their eyes to the floor, remaining silent.

"When we return to the academy, I expect 500 lines from each of you, 'I should know better than to cast magick at my fellow classmates' and another 500 lines, 'I must not perform magick in front of non-witches and non-wizards.' On top of that I'll have a list of chores for you to perform, to be assigned once we arrive back at the school. Is that perfectly clear?"

"Yes, Miss Hardbroom," they chorused.

"You may leave," she dismissed, but quickly stopped them, finger in the air, "Not a word to anyone about all that has happened. It was strange weather, nothing more? Understood?"

"Yes, Miss Hardbroom," they said in unison once more, and she dismissed them.

Imogen went to follow, but she stopped her.

"Not you, Miss Drill. I'd like a word."

She made sure the cabin door was shut, and she turned to face her, still looking very serious but not as furious as she did before. Actually, she appeared rather concerned.

"If I tell Miss Cackle that you left the girls unsupervised, you can and will be suspended and you may lose your job."

Imogen's heart plummeted into her stomach, "Cons-" she winced, "Miss Hardbroom …"

"Let this be a lesson for you," she said, much more softly, her eyes slightly glassed over, and she turned, opening the door once more.

Imogen was confused – she wasn't sure that Constance was letting her off of the hook, or if she was really going to tell Miss Cackle. She assumed the worst, and accepted her fate for the moment, her head held high as she left the cabin.

It slammed shut behind her.

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><p>Constance could bite her lip and feign a smile all she wanted; Imogen knew the witch was deeply troubled. After all, it was a bit strange to see her acting kindly towards not only the girls but to Serge's boys as well, especially after what happened today. The fleeting glances she made at Imogen, the way she shifted ever so slightly on the log by the campfire, how her brown eyes would drift to the cabin longingly every so often, contemplating an escape into the safety of its walls … something was up.<p>

"I don't think I ever thanked you," Imogen said as she sat beside the witch – Serge had decided to take the children fishing, leaving the two alone, "… stopping the blizzard, I mean…"

"I couldn't let the girls suffer," Constance replied shortly, her eyes regarding the closeness of their legs with a look of apprehension, "Despite whatever distractions you may have, the girls _need_ to come first."

"I know," Imogen agreed, biting her lip as she refrained from standing her ground, "I don't know what I was thinking …"

"You weren't."

Imogen gave her a look, "Alright, I wasn't thinking. I forgot what they can be like. For a while there, they were all beginning to behave like ordinary girls. But they're _not_ ordinary girls … I seem to forget that sometimes."

Constance remained silent, staring at the cup of tea in her lap.

"I spoke to Serge. He says they have a position open at his adventure center …"

Constance looked over at her, her brows furrowing slightly as her eyes went wide, "You can't possibly …"

"I'll be fired if I go back, won't I?" Imogen asked, "Soon as you tell Miss Cackle …"

"I _should_, but I'm not going to."

Imogen looked confused, "Why not?"

"Because the matter's been taken care of, that's why." She replied in annoyance, "Besides, I'll be just as much at fault – I should've been chaperoning and I do apologize for that," she relented, eyes flickering nervously in her direction as she finished her tea.

"No, I'm the one who should be apologizing," Imogen said, "I didn't ask for Serge to be here, and I thought merging the groups would be a nice experience and it was … but this was our trip, and I've gone and ruined it for you. And now we're heading back tomorrow …"

"It doesn't matter. Miss Cackle is bound to force us to take another trip next term."

"But-"

"It's all right, Miss Drill," she assured, expressionless as she stood, "Now, if you'll excuse me …"

She placed her empty teacup down on the tray with the rest of the cups, and headed back to the cabin. Imogen watched her, and it didn't take long before it occurred to her that she hadn't simply teleported back … her magick … it must've taken a toll on her, calming that storm. Sure she pretended like it was no big deal, but she realized she hadn't seen her use magick since. And she doubted it was on account of their agreement not to use it.

Her heart ached as she remembered the accusation she'd thrown at her earlier … sure she had every right to wonder if Constance had indeed used a love spell on her, but she should've known better – she should've known that Constance would never …

She stared at the cabin door, contemplating running inside and apologizing profusely to her … but she knew it would be to no avail … how could Constance forgive her when she couldn't forgive herself?

"Imogen?" Serge called, snapping her out of her thoughts.

She looked up to see him standing beside her, grinning broadly as he extended a hand to her.

"Care to join us?" he asked.

She forced a smile, and awkwardly took his hand, "Sure."

She tried to release his hand after he helped her up, but he still held hers in his. It was not a tight grip, but she tried loosening hers, hoping that he would take a hint and release her in the eyes of her students, but he did not … she gave one last look at the cabin before she joined the girls by the riverside.

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><p>Constance awoke at dawn as usual, putting a kettle on as she watched the sun rise from the cabin window. After yesterday's snowstorm, she hadn't trusted to use her magick again. She decided to give it a rest for fear she'd pass out from exhaustion. She hadn't gotten much sleep these past few nights as it was. She still had three hours to go before they'd wake the children, and then who knows how much longer before she'd be back at Cackle's.<p>

She just wanted this trip to end.

Sighing deeply, she pulled her cloak tighter around her thin frame as she gazed out into the morning sky.

She kept replaying their argument over and over in her head … she knew she was wrong to blame Imogen entirely for this … thing between them, whatever it was … she was equally responsible, perhaps even more so than the non-witch. After all, she'd been the one to initiate it from the very start … had she just let the non-witch ride her damn bicycle back to the castle, perhaps they wouldn't have arrived at this point.

She had to keep reminding herself that although the thought of she and the blonde being together as anything more than friends made her feel incredibly uncomfortable, it was Constance that kissed her first, and not the other way around. Hell, she'd even had the nerve to kiss her right before calling it off, whatever _it_ was!

She could still see Imogen in her mind from the night before, hand in Serge's as she looked back towards the cabin, back at the witch – had she seen her looking back?

None of it mattered anymore. It was plain to see that she'd moved on. It was for the best, anyway …

She nearly choked on her tea at the sight of Imogen Drill, treading lightly between the tents and stepping up onto the porch. The witch backed away from the window, letting her 'matronly' cloak drop to the floor. She placed her cup and saucer back on the table as a gentle knock met her ears.

She looked over to see Imogen open the door a crack, with a smile, "Sorry, should've known you'd be awake at this hour," she said sheepishly, "Can I come in?"

Constance nodded shortly, snatching her cloak up from the floor casually and grabbing the 'maiden aunt' bonnet from the coat rack, stuffing it into her suitcase.

"I spoke to the girls last night and we've decided on one last activity before we make the journey back to Cackle's."

"As long as you're not letting them go off on their own, you have my approval." Constance replied simply.

"Actually, I was hoping you'd take over for this one," Imogen said, causing the witch to look around in confusion.

"I'll be chaperoning as well, I mean. Just us. No Serge, no rocky mountain rangers."

Constance raised a brow, "Have they left already then?"

"No," Imogen said, "This is our school trip, and we need to spend it together as a class," she handed the witch a stem which contained several tiny purple flowers growing out from the end of it.

"Meadow sweet," Constance recognized the plant, puzzled by this gesture. She carefully took it from her.

"Saw some the other day," she said, smiling, "Recognized it immediately. I thought we could bring the girls to gather some for potions."

"You don't have to do this," Constance reminded.

"I know," Imogen replied with a wry grin, "Now hurry up, before they fall back asleep."

Constance smiled softly to herself, and magicked  
>up her cloak and bonnet.<p>

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><p><strong>(AN)-** Reviews please! I think I'm going to skip the next couple of episodes as they don't have much interactions in them ... I may briefly mention them, if I can do so without being confusing. Looks like the next chapter might be 'Sweet Talking Guys'! :)


	16. The Heat Is On

**(A/N)-** I didn't want to post this so soon until I got some more reviews, but screw it I'm happy with this one. Enjoy! :) Thanks Dissecting Pomegranates for reviewing! And I hope my other reviewers come back ;p Forgive any mistakes as I wrote all of this - ALL OF IT - between the hours of midnight and 3am.

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><p><strong>- The Heat is On -<strong>

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><p>Between the humid weather and the girls' bickering, Constance was on an entirely new level of anger. Imogen hadn't seen her so furious before, at least not like this, stretched out over a long period of time. Constance was furious with Davina for not supervising her students, angry with the girls for fighting in the corridor, and now that she'd gotten done with detention she was snapping at Frank for 'that confounded piece of machinery'.<p>

"Mr. Blossom, it isn't helping much to change the temperature in the air and all it's doing is taking up space in the staffroom!" Constance snapped after Frank insisted on keeping his bicycle-powered broom-fan in the middle of the room. "We barely have enough space as it is!"

Imogen rolled her eyes, "What Miss Hardbroom means to say, Frank, is that your intentions are good but it's probably best that we cool off in a way that doesn't take up as much space …"

Her green eyes drifted over to the witch, who was cutting her eyes at her so intensely that she had to look away.

Frank nodded in understanding, glancing at the witch before folding his equipment up and taking it out of the room, piece by piece. Imogen got up and helped him, ignoring the witch's icy stare.

Once everything was out, Imogen returned to the staffroom to fetch her weights, and Constance seized the moment to reprimand her.

"Miss Drill, you have a lot of nerve talking like that –"

"No, Miss Hardbroom, you have a lot of nerve!" she snapped back, "Frank was only trying to help and you need to chill out!"

She raised a brow in annoyance, unfamiliar with the phrase, "_Chill_ _out_?"

"_Relax_!" Imogen reworded, her face softening, "Look, I know the weather's damn near unbearable-"

"You think I'm upset because of the weather?" Constance asked, genuinely surprised.

"Well … yes …" she faltered, shrugging.

Constance avoided her gaze and gathered up her test booklets. She got to her feet with a loud sigh, "Don't you have some place to be?" she asked, striding past her.

Imogen wanted to run after her, but she knew that it would be very unwise what with the mood she was in.

She heard muffled talking from the cupboard, and she sighed, walking over to it.

"I can't hear you when you're cooped up in there, Miss Bat."

The door creaked open a bit, "I think she knows about you and Mr. Dubois."

Imogen paled, her heart sinking into her stomach. She suddenly felt flustered.

"I-I don't know what you mean … why should that matter to her?"

"Well you said they didn't get on too well," Davina offered, "and you know how Constance feels about men …"

Imogen blushed, afraid to see where this conversation might be headed so she remained silent lest she accidentally steer it in the wrong direction.

"She probably just disapproves, that's all," Davina said from the closet door, her face blurry through the frosted glass window, "And she's probably upset that you didn't tell her."

"Why should I?" Imogen asked incredulously, "It's my business, not hers …"

"Yes, but you told me."

Imogen sighed, "I doubt telling her that I'm dating someone she dislikes would make her any less angry with me. And besides, what's the point – she probably already knows. Why else would she be so cross with me?"

Davina stuck her head out, frizzy fly-away hair sticking out in all directions.

"What do I look like? Sherlock Holmes?!" she squeaked in annoyance.

"Don't you have a class to teach?" Imogen shot back, the humidity getting to her as well, "Sorry, Davina, I didn't mean …" she glanced at the clock and sighed audibly, "Oh great, I'm late," she said, and jogged out the door to attend her afternoon class.

* * *

><p>"Cons—" Imogen let out a grumble in annoyance at the habit of using the witch's first name – today of all days, she'd risk being beheaded! "Miss Hardbroom!"<p>

Constance looked around in a daze, and when she saw the source of the voice she scowled, "How convenient," she said, turning and approaching the non-witch, meeting her halfway in the hallway.

"Pardon?" Imogen asked.

"Miss Cackle sent me to get you and here you are," she said monotonously, "Davina won't leave the cupboard – she will only speak to you and she'd like another fruit salad," she relayed the message with a hint of annoyance, her eyes catching the parcel in Imogen's hand.

"What's that?" she asked, pointing at it with disgust, but Imogen didn't hear her as she called out to Mr. Blossom as he headed to the greenhouse.

"Frank! Do you have a moment?" she asked, walking over, Constance in tow, eyes locked on the present in her hand, "Miss Bat's locked herself up in the cupboard, I'm going to need a fruit salad from the kitchen, do you mind?"

"Not at all," he assured with a smile and headed off.

"Is that a gift from your new boyfriend then?" Constance couldn't help but assume, her voice laced with disgust.

Imogen almost forgot about the box she was holding, "What?" she asked, and looked down, "Oh …"

"I suppose it's serious then, Mr. Dubois and yourself?" it was obvious Constance had meant to ask it in a teasing, demeaning sort of way but try as she might, Imogen could still hear the hurt in her voice.

"It's not from Serge," Imogen clarified bitterly, thrusting the box in her direction, "It's from me, for you."

There was a flicker of softness in her eyes, just a flicker, before she sneered, "What, a consolation prize?"

Imogen neared her so they were toe-to-toe, taking the witch off guard for a moment.

"Don't you _dare_ talk to me like that. Have you forgotten? You're the one who kissed me right before telling me it was over."

Constance's eyes went wide and she shushed the woman, snatching her wrist and transporting them off to the potions lab.

"Have you lost your mind?" Constance snapped, releasing her as she cast a silencing spell on the room, "Anyone could have heard-"

Imogen knew she was being reckless, but she didn't care about that now, "You kissed me and straight afterwards you said nothing could happen between us."

"Yes and after I said no, you kissed me back!" Constance hissed.

"Yes, because I was hanging onto a small shred of hope that maybe you weren't set in your decision!" Imogen snapped eyes glassy, "How could you throw it all away, just like that? Without any regards to how I might feel? Do you ever think of anyone but yourself?"

Constance opened her mouth to speak but no words came out as she saw Imogen struggle to not let her tears fall with a deep breath.

"Imogen …" she began, hesitantly reaching for her.

The non-witch thrust the box into her outstretched hand.

"I bought it for you because I was just trying to make amends," she explained in annoyance, "I know we can't be friends, but don't get mad at me for something I have no control over."

She strode out of the classroom, leaving Constance alone with her gift.

* * *

><p><em>"He's … built," she giggled, "Handsome … he's got chocolate brown eyes. He's great with the children, and he's an outdoorsman … practically the best man I could ever hope for …"<em>

Constance felt sick to her stomach as her mind replayed the conversation she'd overheard between Imogen and Davina, days after they returned from their trip...

_"Do you love him then?"_

_Constance tensed, her heart numb … she wanted to flee the area before she heard the answer, but her feet would not budge, and she could not focus enough to perform magick. She couldn't focus at all. Everything just went blank._

_Imogen laughed nervously, "Think it's a bit early to know that, don't you think? He's nice and all but … oh I don't know …"_

_ "Have you ever been in love?" Davina pressed._

_ Constance felt faint._

_ There was silence for a moment, then …_

_ "I don't know … I thought I was … once … but she … he … I don't think he felt the same."_

_ Constance's heart plummeted. Was she talking about … no, she couldn't have been …_

_ "Well didn't you ask him?"_

_ "It's not exactly something you can ask, Davina." Imogen replied, and left it at that._

_ Miss Cackle entered the room, talking about that afternoon's assembly, and Constance regained the strength to disappear off to her bedroom, clutching her bedpost as the newly acquired information began to swirl and replay in her mind, drowning her mind in thoughts, questions and assumptions._

She fumbled for a bottle of wide-awake from her desk drawer and took a swig.

Her eyes fell to the parcel which she'd subconsciously placed on her bed.

She unwrapped the simple brown paper from the box, and opened it, looking positively puzzled at what lay within it.

A pair of cat-eye sunglasses, gold in the middle with elegant rims, much like Miss Cackle's horn-rimmed spectacles except these appeared more elegant, ladylike …

Constance lifted them up from the box, and a piece of paper floated to the floor with it.

She snatched it up with magick and read it …

_'Constance – saw these and thought of you, hope you like them :) ~ Imogen'_

She felt so foolish and stupid for making those remarks earlier … she could've just let it go, and Imogen would've handed it to her and it would've been a nice gesture, no drama, no fighting … and now she felt sick to even be in possession of it.

She unfolded the glasses and put them on, walking over to her vanity desk.

Much to her surprise, it didn't seem to look out of place. They complimented her angular facial features and made her appear rather regal – unexpected of course, as these were sunglasses, the exact sort of thing she'd confiscate from the girls … she took them off, staring down at them as she cradled them in her hands …

* * *

><p><strong>- ONE WEEK EARLIER-<strong>

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Imogen asked, looking over at the witch with a smile.

The witch averted her eyes with a blush.

"What is?" she asked casually.

"The sunrise, of course," Imogen said, gesturing towards the purple and yellow sky.

Constance had been too distracted by the way the non-witch looked in the morning sun to have paid any attention to a normal everyday occurrence …

She looked down to the girls at the riverbank as they picked their herbs and gathered them into the baskets. For a moment she thought they were too tired to start any trouble, and then Ethel began to argue …

The sports mistress sighed, "I'd better go down there, looks like Mildred and Ethel are about to go at it again… you know you'd think after yesterday's disaster they'd have learned a thing or two …"

"Imogen …" Constance called as she walked off. She winced as she used the blonde's first name, having promised herself to break the habit.

Imogen looked up expectantly, "Yes?"

Constance looked into those green eyes and for some reason she felt like this may just be the last time in a long time she'd speak to her like this …

She wanted to hold onto the hope that maybe Imogen and Serge weren't an item, but she prepared herself for the chance that they might be. She knew that she missed out on a chance with her, and she would have to live with that mistake for the rest of her life. She wanted to apologize for any hurt that she'd caused and wish her well with Serge, or anyone that came after her … but she couldn't bring herself to say it.

"Thank you," was all she could say, and she inwardly kicked herself for it.

Imogen smiled awkwardly- she must've assumed she was thanking her for the herb-picking activity she'd created.

"You're welcome," she said respectfully, and turned to head down the hill to keep a closer eye on the girls.

And Constance felt her last chance to fix this slip away …

* * *

><p><strong>(AN)-** Was this too confusing? I hope it wasn't. :P Please review!


	17. Rise To The Challenge

**(A/N)-** Thank you so much, everyone who reviewed! Seriously, they fuel me! :) I think I'm just going to flip-flop between 'The Unseen' and 'Bruised Not Broken' from here on in, hope I don't confuse anyone - 'The Unseen' doesn't have much longer to go, anyways ... ah well ... enjoy! :)

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><p><strong>- Rise To The Challenge -<strong>

* * *

><p><em>"When the heat is on, it's time to rise to the challenge …"<em>

Miss Hardbroom was so furious with Ethel Hallow and Drusilla Paddock that she couldn't even bring herself to attend Miss Cackle's meeting with the two; she simply asked Amelia to call her in once detention was to be assigned, and she headed off to the staffroom to cool down, not just from the heat this time but also to cool off her temper.

Unfortunately, she'd made the wrong decision.

Imogen had just gotten back from her short rendezvous with Mr. Dubois and she was heading down the hallway with her bicycle looking … oddly downhearted. Her eyes rose to look at the witch and she stopped, eyes suddenly full of concern.

"What happened to you?" she asked as she looked at the white debris that covered the witch head to toe.

Constance kept walking, ignoring the non-witch's question with her lips pursed. She slammed the staffroom door behind her, causing Davina to jump right in the middle of dozing off.

"Constance Harbroom!" she said in a shrill voice like a teacher speaking to a pupil, "You're going to give me –"

"Davina, you shouldn't be nodding off like that," Constance chastised, "You could have a concussion."

She took out the small vial of wide-awake she usually carried with her and poured a bit into the cap, handing it to the chanting mistress, "Take this, it will help."

Davina didn't question the potions mistress and drank it up almost greedily.

Imogen had finally put her bike away and she entered the room, looking between the two. Her eyes lingered on Constance longer than the witch would've liked, and she turned to Davina.

"What's happened?"

Davina handed the cap back to Constance and she screwed it back on the bottle, putting it away.

"Ethel and Drusilla's drink sent the three of us flying rocketing into the air – we busted through the ceiling of the great hall!" Davina exclaimed.

"Goodness!" Imogen said, completely in shock, her eyes glancing and catching Constance's gaze, "Are you all okay? Where's Amelia?"

"She's in conference with the culprits," Constance replied, not wanting to admit that her head ached a bit from her unexpected flight. She felt sick to her stomach to know that, had things not gone sour between them, Imogen might've been unnecessarily examining her and kissing her better, in private of course … instead Imogen was with-

"Serge!" Davina practically shouted, "I'd almost forgotten! How was your date?" she asked cheerfully, clasping her hands over her knees.

Imogen felt suddenly embarrassed, avoiding Constance's gaze. "It was nice …" she rubbed the back of her neck nervously, looking downright uncomfortable with his name being brought up in present company.

She took up Davina's hat, brushing the dust off of it, "I do hope you haven't seriously injured yourself …" she said, changing the subject as she placed the hat on a vacant chair, inspecting the older witch's scalp.

"There's no need, Miss Drill," Constance assured with a careless wave of her hand, "The potion seems to have shielded us from any serious injury."

As soon as she finished her sentence, Davina cried out, gripping the sides of her chair.

"Well she's got a rather nasty bruise …" Imogen pointed out, raising a brow at the witch.

Constance scowled as she took a closer look, "Oh, that's _nothing_!" she exclaimed, "She probably had that before!"

Imogen rolled her eyes and went to fill up an ice pack from the small cooler in the corner of the room.

"You should check Constance's head as well," Davina suggested, almost sounding hopefully.

Constance folded her arms across her chest protectively, "She does _not_ need to check my head because I'm not prone to tumbling down hillsides like yourself, which is probably where that bruise came from in the first place."

Imogen pressed the ice pack to Davina's bruise and took the chanting mistress's hand up to hold it in place as she approached the potions mistress.

Constance immediately backed away, holding a finger up at her, "Don't you dare," she warned.

"What are you going to do? Turn me into a toad?" Imogen asked, hands on her hips.

"Perhaps she's ticklish," Davina suggested, giggling at her own assumption.

Constance turned beet red, "Perhaps you hit your head harder than I thought!" she snapped back, unable to think of another comeback, not with Imogen so intent on examining her.

In the next moment, her debris-covered steeple hat was whipped off of her head, and she turned to see the non-witch holding it, looking triumphantly at her.

"Give that back," she ordered, her eyes ablaze as she held her palm out to receive it. She could've retrieved it with magick but after they'd drank that spiked juice she was afraid that she might cause a Doctor Foster's effect within her own body, if that were possible.

Imogen dusted it off, whipping it away again as Constance went to snatch it. The non-witch hid it behind her back, flashing a smug grin at her.

"Sit," she said, motioning with her free hand to an empty chair.

Constance pursed her lips, folding her arms, "No." she replied.

"I'm going to inspect Miss Cackle as well," Imogen said, "She'd be furious if she found out you turned me down."

Imogen's smile faded as she realized what else that could imply, as Constance had turned her down before … but she kept her gaze on the witch, waiting patiently for her to obey.

With a roll of her eyes, the witch eventually sat down, and Imogen handed back her hat, trusting that she wouldn't get up and leave, and she didn't … Constance froze as she felt the other woman's fingers gently sift through her hair best she could with it still up in a bun …

Constance caught Davina staring at her with a goofy face, and she glared back at her, pointing to the door, "Out."

"Aw, why?!" Davina cried with a pout, "It's so nice to see the both of you getting along!"

"Out." Constance repeated, her face growing red.

"But-"

"Davina, please leave," Imogen said exasperatedly, "I'll call you back in when we're done. Go check on the girls."

Davina sighed as she reluctantly rose from her chair, bringing her ice pack with her as she retreated to the hallway.

Constance swiftly reached up and took several bobby pins out of her bun, and her hair cascaded down into a long ponytail braid. She undid the ponytail and took her time unbraiding her hair.

"Show off," Imogen scoffed, and Constance suppressed a smile.

"Just making sure you can see that there are no injuries," Constance replied simply.

Her breath caught in her throat when she felt Imogen's fingers brush against hers as she helped to loosen the braid. Eventually Constance put both her hands in her lap and let her finish the job, enjoying the feeling of her slender fingers as they combed through her silky locks. She never realized it, until this day, how much she liked for her hair to be touched … perhaps it only depended on the person touching it … but that couldn't be, for she and Imogen were enemies again, weren't they?

Constance turned to look up at her, and Imogen stopped, gazing back down at her.

"I'm not mad at you, you know," Constance said, licking her dry lips, "I'm mad at me."

Imogen shook her head, trying to brush the conversation away, "Constance-"

"I'm sorry I turned you away," she admitted, shutting her eyes for a moment with a sigh, "I'm just not that type of person, I don't have relationships, I can't …" she couldn't bring herself to say the word.

Imogen grasped her shoulder comfortingly, "Don't beat yourself up about it," she said, "And don't give up. There's bound to be someone out there for you …"

Constance nodded, feeling numb as she looked forward again. She couldn't bring herself to tell Imogen that she didn't want someone else … but she couldn't put her in that position. Not while she was seeing Serge. Perhaps they were both better off, anyway …

The fingers returned to her scalp. It wasn't long before Constance winced involuntarily, and Imogen backed off.

"You've got a pretty nasty cut," she said, moving over to the cupboard to fetch the first aid kit, "Don't know how I didn't see that before …"

Constance paled, paler than her usual pale, "Is it bleeding?"

"A little," Imogen said, "It's a wonder you didn't feel it."

"I feel it _now_!" Constance replied irritably, reaching up to touch her injury, letting out a hiss when she got too close.

"Don't touch!" Imogen scolded as she approached her with a jar, "Will this do?"

Constance took one glance at the jar, seeing that it was her own special mixture she'd made, an ointment guaranteed to heal cuts rapidly and efficiently.

"Yes," she nodded slightly, closing her eyes as she suddenly felt out of breath.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," Imogen teased, "It's not that bad."

"You said it was 'pretty nasty'," Constance reminded.

"Yes, but it's not something to hyperventilate over."

"I'm not-"

Constance let out a small involuntary cry as the non-witch rubbed the ointment over the wound.

"You're worse than the girls sometimes, you know that?"

"And you, Miss Drill, are playing with fire!" she warned, not used to being toyed with in this sort of situation.

"Calm down, I'm only joking!" Imogen assured with a small laugh as she gently gathered her hair from her face, running her fingers through it.

Constance's anger quickly subsided, and she felt more scared and confused than anything.

She shrugged her away, "Don't touch me," she warned in a small voice.

"I'm sorry, I was only trying to-"

The witch stood, pulling her hair up into a bun, resorting to magick despite the risk that she might get herself sick.

"Just don't," was all she could say.

Imogen scowled, "What happened now? I thought you said you weren't mad at me?"

"Well I was wrong then, _wasn't I_?" Constance snapped back as her bun finished itself.

Amelia entered the room at that moment, and Constance avoided the blonde's eyes as she looked to her headmistress.

"Constance, we're ready for you now." She called, holding the door open for her.

Constance unbuttoned her cloak and left it on her chair before storming out, eager to sentence detention if only so that she could get away from Imogen.

"Everything all right, Miss Drill?" she heard Amelia ask.

"Fine." Imogen replied simply, and Constance thought that she was mistaken but she could've sworn she heard the subtle sound of the sports mistress choking back a sob. She can't have though … unless Amelia didn't notice it, for the older witch followed behind as Constance entered the headmistress's office to sentence Ethel and Drusilla to a week of detention duties.

* * *

><p>Constance sipped her fruit drink in silence, stewing in the corner as she kept an eye on Ethel and Drusilla, who were both serving out their detention atop 's wind machine, pedaling away and creating a nice breeze across the courtyard.<p>

She had tried feebly to make things up to Imogen, but it wasn't enough. She wore the sunglasses the non-witch had given her, but she took no notice. She offered her a drink, and she did a handstand, nearly kicking Constance in the face. She had handed the drink over to Davina instead, pretending nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"Hey."

Constance tensed up and looked over to see Imogen Drill standing there with an awkward smile.

"They look good on you," she said quietly and nodded to the sunglasses.

Constance pushed them up higher on her nose delicately, hoping that her blush wasn't apparent.

"Thank you, Miss Drill," she said respectfully, turning her gaze back to the girls.

Imogen walked off, and Constance hesitated, wanting to call her back and apologize … but what would be the point? She _wasn't_ sorry – she was angry with Imogen. And no, it wasn't her fault, not exactly … but she was still angry with her. And she feared that she always would be, so long as she still harbored feelings towards that little non-witch …

* * *

><p><strong>(AN)-** reviews? Be gentle! I can't say when the next chapter will be up but I am determined to get this done, even if it takes me another year I will have it finished!


	18. Sorcery and Chips

**(A/N)-** Forgive any mistakes please! I'm surprised this happened because of my bitter mood lately but .. they're bitter, so it helps? :P Thank you sooo much to all my reviewers, seriously, it means the world to me! Hope you enjoy this!

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><p><strong>- Sorcery and Chips -<strong>

* * *

><p>With a deep breath and a relaxed exhale, Constance opened the door to her potions lab, which was now filled with trees. A branch slid out when the door moved, and nearly whacked her in the face. She pushed it aside in annoyance as she remembered a similar situation happening on their last school trip, when Imogen pulled it away so that she could pass with ease.<p>

"Mr. Blossom?" Constance called through the dense forest that was once her classroom.

"He's popped out for a pair of cutters," Imogen's voice replied, but she couldn't see her, "The ones he had were too dull."

She folded her arms, looking about with an irritated sigh, "And just _what_ do you think you're doing in my classroom, Miss Drill?"

"Helping," she replied simply as she appeared from the shrubbery beside the witch. She caught her off guard, and she jumped in surprise, clutching her chest and breathing rapidly as she scowled at the sports mistress.

"Sorry," Imogen apologized, trying to keep from laughing, "I was on break and thought I'd-"

"Mr. Blossom doesn't need your help, Miss Drill, he is the handyman around here and is perfectly capable of performing his duties!" she snapped.

"- I thought I'd help _you_." She finished in a small voice, a brief and grim smile crossing her lips.

Constance tried in vain to hide her blushing, but she knew it would be apparent due to her fair skin, so she looked away, lips pursed as she tucked her arms closer against her small frame.

"Thank you, Miss Drill, but your presence is not wanted nor needed."

Imogen didn't seem to hear her, she was too busy suppressing a laugh as she looked at the top of Constance's head.

"What is it?" Constance snapped, reaching up but she felt nothing.

"You've got-" Imogen pointed, reaching out to touch her, but she quickly retracted, remembering the last time she touched the other woman's hair.

"There's just some leaves," Imogen explained, trying hard not to smile as she directed the other woman by pointing to the area they were at on her own head, "Just there – higher a bit … _there_."

Constance brushed the leaves off in annoyance, "Have I got it all?"

"No, there's still a bit more …" Imogen sighed, feeling foolish about this unnecessary standoffish behavior she had to pull just because she was wary of how Constance might react. So she took a chance.

"May I?"

The witch's scowl softened slightly and she froze like a deer in headlights before nodding hesitantly, leaning forward so that the non-witch could have better access.

Imogen was quick and careful not to touch her more than she had to as she removed the last bits of debris from the deputy headmistress's head.

"There. It's all gone." She announced, brushing her hands clean on her shorts.

The witch returned to her normal height, meeting Imogen's eyes momentarily. The non-witch offered a grim smile, looking about the classroom with a sigh, "Suppose it could be worse …"

"How?" Constance quipped, looking none-too-pleased.

Imogen rolled her eyes with a slight grin, hands on her hips, "It's Cackle's Academy. It can _always_ be worse."

Constance managed the slightest hint of a smile, but she remained standing still, looking straight ahead at her classroom and avoiding eye-contact with Imogen as she waited for Mr. Blossom to return.

Imogen pushed aside the branches that divided them and stepped out from the shrubbery, "Look … Constance, about yesterday—"

"Found 'em!" Frank announced as he entered the classroom, proudly raising the clippers into the air, but not dangerously for he gripped them by the blades and held them with handle facing up, "Don't worry, Miss Hardbroom, we'll have it cleaned up in a jiffy!"

"That won't be necessary, Mr. Blossom," she replied crisply, "As Miss Drill might've mentioned, Mr. Hallow will be visiting tomorrow so I've decided to teach class in the Great Hall for the time being."

Frank had been making his way to the front of the classroom, and when he heard this he peered over the young trees, looking confused, "So … you _don't_ want me to clean this up?"

"Oh I do, just don't rush it," she explained, "I'd like for Mr. Hallow to see some of the damage firsthand."

"Sure thing, ma'am."

Constance nodded in approval and turned to leave, but was stopped by Imogen's hand on her arm. She looked at it and, eyes wide, she looked up at its owner.

"Constance-"

"That's Miss Hardbroom to you," she said under her breath.

Imogen ignored her, "I'd like a word?"

"Not now, Miss Drill, I have enough to deal with today as it is. In case you haven't noticed, my classroom is a jungle and I must prepare for Mr. Hallow's arrival tomorrow morning."

Constance walked off to the staffroom, leaving the blonde to slump in defeat against a small tree trunk that was once a desk.

* * *

><p>"Miss Drill said that?" Constance asked, her eyes widening with surprise and confusion.<p>

"Indeed she did," Amelia replied, peering over her half moon spectacles.

Constance narrowed her eyes and resumed her pacing, "I find that hard to believe. She seems quite keen on those wretched machines …"

"She told me she has no problem with them on a temporary basis, it's long term she's worried about. She doesn't want the girls to become 'mindless zombies'," Amelia explained, "At her old school, she said that the girls not only misuse the computers, but that the teachers themselves do. They let them do the teaching for them."

"Well she doesn't think we're going to do that, does she?" Constance asked, stopping in her tracks.

"Of course not!" Amelia brushed aside carelessly, "Point is, she's against them."

"I'm sure Mr. Hallow isn't too happy about that," Constance replied, looking rather pleased with herself. The Chair of Governors had been pressing the non-witch to side with him on this drastic change; he must've figured she'd convince the others to convert as she'd dealt with more modern technology on a regular basis than they ever have.

"She also said it wouldn't be fair to you," Amelia continued, "All the potion-making being done on computers … next thing you know they'd have P.E. class on computers."

Constance was curious, but she didn't want to raise any suspicions, "What … _exactly_ did she say?" she asked carefully.

"All good things," Amelia assured with a smile, "Why not ask her yourself?"

Constance blushed visibly, lips pursed, and she resumed her pacing.

"I take it you two aren't getting on?"

"When are we ever?" she scoffed under her breath.

"_Constance_ …"

The witch stopped in her tracks, looking guilty as ever, "Yes, headmistress?"

"_Try_ to get along? That's all I ask …"

Constance nodded, resuming her pacing out of stress.

"She said it wouldn't be fair to you because you love teaching potions, and she doesn't want you to resign,"Amelia confessed finally. Constance slowed to a stop at these words, but said nothing, staring straight ahead.

"I expect you'll be threatening resignation soon enough if this keeps up, won't you?" Amelia asked, "My words, not hers."

Constance sighed, ignoring that remark, "Perhaps these … _computers_ aren't as bad as I think them to be. Shall we go and have a look?"

Amelia smiled in accomplishment, and rose to her feet.

* * *

><p>They <em>were<em> as bad as she thought. Perhaps even more so.

Imogen was right about the 'mindless zombie' part, but she probably didn't mean literally, which is what happened …

Constance thought it to be nice at first, seeing the girls so focused … but when none of them would look up or even respond to her voice, she began to worry. She tried to have a word with Mr. Hallow, but he, Miss Bat and Miss Drill, seemed all under this … spell, for lack of a better word.

After a failed attempt to turn the machine off – Constance could've tried harder but she feared harming the girls in the process, as she was unfamiliar with whatever spell they were under. The two lucid teachers had found empty computers and tried to configure the machine somehow, but they wound up getting stuck as well, their gaze became glued on the screen and they were incapable of nothing more than typing … what they were typing, Constance was unsure. Tons of numbers and letters, a sort of code … and she couldn't control it.

She'd snapped back to reality after Mildred cast her spell, and immediately set to work casting a spell at the canine-robot on the screen that seemed to be behind the whole thing.

"Imogen?" Constance asked under her breath at the staffroom table later that night, "Are you all right?"

They had just gotten back from their herb picking, and Imogen had joined up with the other teachers in the middle of her afternoon jog. She'd noticed then that she appeared a bit dazed, more than she usually looked after a run. Now they were alone in the staffroom while Amelia and Davina tended to supper duties.

"Yeah, I'm – I'm fine …" she seemed confused as to why the witch was inquiring as she picked idly at her peas and carrots with her fork, "Aren't you still mad at me?"

Constance felt a lump in her throat as she recalled the day previous, when she'd shooed her away for touching her. She wanted to lie, she wanted to say that she wasn't mad … but she was. She was mad that Imogen put her in an awkward position, outright addressing their budding relationship or whatever it was and expecting Constance to make a decision like that … but she was also mad at herself for calling it off, out of fear. Fear that they wouldn't work out, fear that the non-witch would break her heart, fear that her personal tutor would return and find that her pupil had always been as wretched and disgusting as she claimed her to be …

"Yes," Constance replied simply, and Imogen's face fell and she looked away.

"But I'm mad at me, too." She added as an afterthought.

She brought her gaze back to meet hers, green eyes glistening and threatening tears as she choked out a small laugh, "Don't be, it's my fault really. I can be such a git sometimes."

"So can I." Constance argued with a small smile which Imogen returned.

"I really am happy you're with Serge," Constance said, her smile fading, trying hard to keep a straight face because that sentence wasn't entirely true.

Imogen frowned, "You're having me on."

"No, I'm not. I mean it," she said, forcing a grim smile, "You deserve to be with someone who isn't afraid to be seen with you."

Imogen's eyes softened, and she looked to her plate, unsure what to say.

Constance hadn't touched her meal, porridge as usual. She zapped it into thin air, rising from her seat, excusing herself quietly. She remembered in that moment that Imogen had wanted to speak with her, but as she didn't bring it up she figured it must not be important ... and she didn't want to stick around any longer, anyway.

She disappeared through thin air herself, reappearing in her bedroom and as she did, tears that she didn't know she had fell from her cheeks. She rubbed them away in annoyance, but the conversation replayed in her head and they brought forth new tears. She collapsed in on herself on the end of her bed, leaning down into her lap and burying her face against her legs as she gave in to her sadness and sobbed uncontrollably.

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><p><strong>(AN)-** next is 'Let Them Eat Cake'! :) I'm trying to be quick about them as not much goes on until 'A Bolt From The Blue'. ;p Review please!


	19. Afternoon That Never Happened

**(A/N) -** Thank you to all my reviewers, as always, you guys fuel me and I love getting review alerts, I LIVE for them! Hope you like this chapter as much as I've enjoyed writing it, this one takes place in the episode 'Let Them Eat Cake' - ENJOY! :)

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><p><strong>- Afternoon That Never Happened -<strong>

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><p>Imogen jogged along the forest path, keeping a steady pace as she tried hard to concentrate on her steps, but try as she might, she couldn't keep a certain dark-haired witch out of her mind.<p>

She kept replaying the events of yesterday … how she longed to have a word with Constance … it seemed too coincidental … what she said …

"_You deserve to be with someone who isn't afraid to be seen with you."_

Did she know? Had she overheard her conversation with Davina? Was she toying with her?

Imogen wondered which was worse – having a girlfriend who didn't want to be seen with her, period, or having a boyfriend who wanted her to change her appearance so that she wouldn't embarrass him in front of his friends.

At least Constance seemed to like her just the way she was …

Tears blurred her vision and she brushed them away in annoyance as she hurried along, wanting to get back to the academy so she could sulk in the sports shed with some tea.

The sound of voices met her ears, and she looked up, stopping in her tracks.

Not far off down the path, heading in her direction, was Constance Hardbroom herself, with Ethel Hallow and Drusilla Paddock.

Her breath caught in her throat and she backed away slowly, concealing herself partially behind a tree trunk. Her heart began to pound madly in her chest as she watched the black-clad woman storm ahead of her two students, her eyes focused and intense, hands clasped tightly across her middle. She was obviously on the prowl, looking for something … or someone …

Constance glanced over and caught her gaze, doing a double take.

Imogen jumped slightly and hid behind the tree, her back against the trunk. She sighed deeply, waiting a moment before daring to catch another glimpse. Constance had now stopped to look around, seemingly distracted, with Ethel and Drusilla at her side.

She squeezed her eyes shut and pushed herself off of the tree, continuing her afternoon jog, grateful that the three of them were standing in the middle of the path so it didn't seem odd that she just _happened_ to be passing.

"Miss Drill," Constance greeted crisply with a tone in her voice that obviously suggested she had already known she was there or maybe that she just expected that she would be.

"Yes Miss Hardbroom?" Imogen asked, coming to a stop beside the woman.

"Do you know anything about free cream teas at Cosie's Café?"

"No, not that I've heard of," she replied after looking confusedly at her students who stood there in silence. She thought it was odd that Constance was asking about Cosie's – she knew the witch despised sweets … she wanted to know what was the matter, but since Constance didn't elaborate, she assumed it wasn't very important.

She smiled at Constance briefly, trying not to get mesmerized by the way the sunlight through the trees danced across her normally pale skin, giving it a sort of rosy tone … she huffed in annoyance at herself as she jogged off, and headed back to the academy.

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><p>Not long after returning to the school, Imogen was jogging right back towards Cosie's after finding that Miss Cackle had gone, along with Mildred, Maud, Enid, and Jadu. Ruby was in bed sick, and Imogen was about to ask her if she knew where her friends had gone, but then she remembered the book they'd put aside for the girls to sign their names in whenever they were going out of bounds. She found the missing girls names scribbled in it, along with Ethel and Drusilla. She thought it was odd, because the girls were only allowed out in groups of five and she'd just seen Ethel and Drusilla without the others … and she knew that Miss Hardbroom wouldn't allow them to pass Walker's Gate without making sure that they were together …<p>

She was too confused, and so she was on her way to Cosie's Café out of curiosity, as well as concern.

She hurried up the steps to the small establishment and pulled the door open, and barely had time to step into the building before an old man in a suit came rushing out, followed quickly by a large growling Doberman.

She jumped slightly at the sight of the canine- she loved dogs, but she'd had a couple of run-ins with strays in the past whilst jogging or on her bike, and that was enough to make her wary. Thankfully, the dog seemed too focused on chasing the man.

Cheering erupted as the dog raced after him, and she looked up to see Constance Hardbroom down the hall, arms folded as she stared at her in disbelief, her mouth slightly agape. She quickly looked away once she realized Imogen was staring back. Imogen closed the door and approached her.

"What's going on then?" she asked, looking to the others but her eyes fell on Constance for an explanation.

Constance rolled her eyes at the ridiculousness of it all, "Too much, apparently."

"Imogen!" Amelia greeted, "So nice of you to join us!"

She motioned for them to sit as Mrs. Cosie poured some tea.

The two teachers exchanged uneasy glances but obliged anyway.

Mildred explained everything, how the man that had run off was trying to con Mrs. Cosie into selling her property. Eventually this led to her admitting to Miss Hardbroom that she and her friends had gone out of bounds, but Miss Cackle covered for her, saying that she was glad that she did, otherwise Mrs. Cosie would've lost the Café.

Constance was silent the whole time, even during Mildred's confession. She kept looking at the cakes and other sweets with disgust, resorting to taking just a few sips of her cream tea but she made a face afterwards anyway. Imogen felt guilty for eating a few sweeties herself; she wasn't really the type to indulge in sweets either, what with her strict diet and exercise routine. She could feel Constance's judging eyes upon her as she ate, and Imogen made it a point to look her square in the eye as she downed an entire cookie in one bite.

Constance cut her a look but said nothing, returning her gaze to the plate that their headmistress had set up for her but she refused to eat any of it. She finally resorted to the slightest nibble on a cookie after Miss Cackle and Mrs. Cosie coaxed her to.

Mildred shot up out of her chair when the dog started barking outside the door, and she went to let him in, and as she did he had already transformed back into a man. They invited him to eat with them, and Imogen took Mildred's seat, scooting over so that they could fit another chair in for Mildred's friend. There wasn't much space at the table though, and Imogen's leg unintentionally brushed up against Constance's. She felt the witch tense up before pulling away.

"Miss Drill, what brings you to Cosie's?" Miss Cackle asked, "I thought you didn't care much for sweets?"

Imogen blushed, glancing up at Constance and catching her gaze for a brief second before answering.

"I saw Constance and she mentioned Cosie's … when I got back to the Academy I noticed that quite a few of you had gone missing, so I went to investigate."

"Well we're glad you're here all the same, aren't we Constance?"

"Yes, headmistress," Constance replied automatically, keeping her face as unreadable as possible but she couldn't control the blush that spread across her face.

Imogen smiled, looking down at her now empty plate, "Of course that means Davina is the only teacher left supervising the academy …" she realized aloud. Although classes weren't in session today – it was Saturday – leaving Davina alone and in charge of anyone or anything was never good.

Amelia's eyes widened, "Goodness. You remember what happened last time," she said, looking to her deputy headmistress and glancing around the table, "I suppose we should be leaving soon –"

"Nonsense, Miss Cackle," Constance replied, getting up from her seat, "You stay here, enjoy your afternoon. I'll take care of it."

"I should be heading back as well," Imogen added, getting up and avoiding meeting the glare that Constance was shooting in her direction, "Promised myself I'd sort out the sports shed before dinner."

"I don't think it's wise for us to leave Miss Cackle alone to supervise-"

"Don't worry, Constance, we'll be fine. You two had better hurry along now."

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><p>They headed out in silence, nothing but the sound of Constance's keys jingling as she walked filling the void. Imogen shoved her hands into her jacket pockets, power walking in an attempt to keep up with the older woman.<p>

"So …" she breathed with a nervous smile, "Crazy day, huh?"

"Yes." Constance replied flatly.

Imogen's eyes fell to the ground as she walked, regretting ever speaking up in the first place … but she was determined to make conversation.

"I shouldn't have left Davina alone, I wasn't-"

The witch stopped short and turned around, nearly causing Imogen to stumble into her.

"I'm sorry Miss Drill, but walking there isn't quite working for me," she said stiffly, and folded her arms.

Imogen nodded, "_Right_."

She walked on, feeling absolutely foolish for leaving Cosie's in the first place.

Until she heard Constance's voice call her back, somewhat uncertain.

"Imogen?"

The sports mistress looked back, meeting Constance's eyes … there was a sort of sadness to them that Imogen couldn't quite place … and then the witch extended a slightly-shaking hand towards her.

Imogen smiled at the woman's shyness, and stepped forward, taking her hand in hers. It felt as if it had been an eternity since she had been allowed to touch her soft porcelain skin again …

In an instant they were transported back to the academy inside the courtyard, and Constance stepped out of her grasp as if they hadn't held hands to begin with, like she'd just stepped off a train or something.

Imogen shook her head and walked off in the opposite direction to her sports shed, deciding to sulk there until someone noticed she was missing, or until dinnertime, whichever came first.

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><p>"Is this what you call <em>sorting out the sports shed<em>?"

Imogen jumped awake to see Constance Hardbroom stepping into the threshold, looking about as if she smelled something foul. Her brown eyes eventually fell upon Imogen, and she cut her a look.

"Were you napping?"

"Must've dozed off," she replied in a mumble, pulling herself upright and feeling suddenly dizzy.

"What time is it?"

"Hasn't even been fifteen minutes since we came back," Constance retorted, but then she looked somewhat concerned, "Are you alright? It's not like you to simply 'doze off' like this."

"I'm fine," Imogen replied simply, not wanting to mention Serge and all the stress he'd been giving her lately … her phone buzzed noisily in her pocket, having just picked up the small amount of service they occasionally got outside the castle walls.

She could feel Constance eye the device as she pulled it out, but she said nothing in regards to it.

"I was wondering if you would like some tea?"

"Yeah, sure," Imogen replied dazedly as she looked at her phone screen.

Serge was calling her.

She ended the call because she didn't want to speak to him, and besides they'd lose service again and he'd call back complaining about the terrible reception.

She sighed and got to her feet.

"Not in the staffroom," Constance said, "In here."

Imogen was confused.

"Why, did Davina blow the place up?"

"No, Miss Cackle and the girls are back and …" she blushed, wringing her hands across her middle, "Well, I just wanted some alone time, that's all."

Imogen raised a brow, "Alone implies that you don't have anyone else with you, you know …" she teased gently with a small smirk.

Unfortunately, Constance didn't seem to catch that Imogen was joking, and she suddenly became very flustered, "Yes, well, alright, if you don't care to join me, I'll just be off then-"

"No, it's perfectly fine," Imogen insisted, patting the empty space beside her on the folded gym mat, "Stay."

Constance looked somewhat taken aback at this, probably even frightened, but still she crossed the room and sat beside her, her legs flat on the floor. She magicked up a tea kettle and a couple of mugs on the floor in front of them. Imogen thought for a moment about the Foster's effect, until she recognized the kettle as the spare one from the staffroom, and that Constance had teleported both hers and Imogen's mugs as well.

They sat there in silence for a while, sipping their tea and staring outside of the sports shed at the empty courtyard and clear evening sky.

"I missed this."

Constance's brow furrowed, and she looked over, "Missed what?"

"_This_. Us being civil to one another."

Constance's gaze fell, and she faced forward, looking down at her tea in her hands.

"I missed it too," she admitted softly, "I know I'm not the easiest person to get along with …"

"You can be, when you want to be," Imogen replied with a small smile.

Constance smiled softly back, her gaze returning to her cup, "It's you who's responsible for that, really. You're the only one with enough patience … besides Amelia, but even she knows when to give up. You never do … well, that is of course … I suppose we all have our limits."

"You gave up on me first, remember?"

Constance nodded stiffly, her gaze focused straight ahead.

Imogen looked down at the witch's free hand, which was resting on the gym mat. She enclosed her tanned fingers around it, and Constance jumped slightly in surprise, looking over at her.

Imogen just stared down at their joined hands, gently caressing the top of her hand with her thumb, running it in small circles.

Finally she gathered the courage to meet the witch's gaze, and become instantly lost in those deep brown eyes staring back at her. Their faces were mere inches from each other, so close that Imogen could feel her breath upon her face. Her heart began to race, that familiar steady pace it always used to run whenever the witch was near … did that feeling ever stop? Or had she simply been ignoring it?

Constance's burgundy lips descended upon hers, so fleetingly but enough for Imogen to feel that all-too-familiar shock run through her veins, that warm pleasant feeling she used to get when they kissed … but it was accompanied by another feeling, something she'd never felt before … a sick feeling of dread … along with pain, the same pain she felt when Constance turned her away … _heartache_.

Constance quickly got to her feet, magicking the tea away with a quick flick of the wrist, "Sorry, I'm so sorry …" she apologized, over and over.

"Don't be," Imogen said quietly, still recovering from that little kiss.

"_Don't be_? You're with Serge!" Constance hissed, annoyed with herself, "I must go-"

"Afternoon that never happened, remember?" Imogen quipped, forcing a smile as a lump formed in her throat and she felt the familiar prickle of tears.

Constance sighed, "She meant at_ Cosie's_ … I have to go, I can't – I'm sorry Imogen, really I am …"

The deputy headmistress crossed the courtyard and disappeared into the castle, and all Imogen could do was sit there on the gym mat and watch her go.

Her fingers flew to her mouth, gently touching her lips, finding it hard to believe that Constance had just kissed her seconds ago …

She dared not to mention it to Constance … but she was glad that little 'afternoon that never happened' applied only to their afternoon at Cosie's, because she didn't want to forget this.

Even if she was still dating Serge.

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><p><strong>(AN)** - Next chapter is 'Sweet Talking Guys', lots more drama there - reviews please! :)


	20. None of Your Business

**(A/N)**- OKAY I rewrote this to what I had originally intended to write because the other was just ehh ... so drama in this one! sorry about this!

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><p><strong>- None of Your Business -<strong>

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><p>Although the 'afternoon that never happened' applied only to the afternoon at Cosie's, Constance decided to include her kissing Imogen as part of that afternoon. Try as she might, she couldn't forget that it happened, so she remembered it only for it to serve as a reminder to keep away from Imogen. Constance may not approve of the blonde's choice in partner, but still she respected their relationship and didn't want to spoil things for them due to her inability to control her … <em>urges<em>.

After all, Imogen still had a chance at lifelong happiness.

What did Constance have? Her books, her potions, her teaching career … things that used to suffice but now seemed meaningless compared to Imogen …

"_You gave up on me first, remember?"_

She watched the non-witch from across the room, and her heart began to race at the sight of her in the morning sunlight, making her hair appear almost golden. A friendly smile graced her lips as she offered Hellebore's boys a plate of Miss Bat's questionable snacks.

Imogen had backed away with a look of disgust as the boys began to pig out, and she caught Constance's gaze, shaking her head slightly in disbelief.

Constance looked away, pretending to be interested in her pile of course books, and she opened one up so she would appear more convincing.

"I'm off to town for a bit," Imogen announced, and Constance glanced up to see the non-witch standing beside her.

Constance was curious – it wasn't like Imogen to leave in the middle of a school day … unless she was going to see Serge. But if she was she would've said so, wouldn't she? Constance decided not to pry lest it make her look interested in whatever the non-witch did or didn't do.

"You're going to miss the Grand Wizard's talk," Constance reminded sternly.

"Shame," Imogen replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes as she turned to leave, "I should be back once it's over."

"What about Davina?" she called after her, knowing full well that she wouldn't be able to coax the chanting mistress out of the cupboard, especially not in front of the boys and Hellebore who, thanks to Miss Cackle, believed that the batty old witch had gone out 'the back stairs'.

Imogen appeared to not have heard her, for she disappeared out into the hall without a word.

She sighed in annoyance, gathering her books up and bringing them to her classroom, storming right past Imogen in the inner courtyard as she unfolded her portable bicycle. She could feel those green eyes watching her as she passed, but she didn't dare to meet her eyes.

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><p>"All of the girls are present and accounted for," Constance confirmed as she sat beside her headmistress in the Great Hall.<p>

"Very good," Amelia approved, trying to look pleased although Constance could see the dread in her face clear as day.

"You're not really going to let him go through with this, are you?"

"He's the Grand Wizard," she said in a sigh, as if that alone required no further explanation.

"We'll be here for hours," Constance muttered, rolling her eyes, "Bat and Drill managed to escape at least. If I had known his talk was to be about himself, I might've locked myself in a stationary cupboard as well!"

"Now, Constance," Amelia said, touching her deputy's arm briefly in an attempt to get her to settle down, "I don't think Davina meant to miss his talk, and neither did Imogen."

"Doubtful. It's not every day she pops off into town at the drop of a hat."

"No, she doesn't." Amelia agreed, and left it at that.

Constance noticed she appeared to be hiding something, so she pressed her, "What is it?"

"I didn't want to say anything … I know you don't like him very much …"

Constance's heart plummeted into her stomach. Lips pursed, she stared straight ahead.

"Mr. Dubois," she assumed.

"I know you don't approve … it was a spur of the moment, he happened to be in town …"

"It's not that I don't approve," Constance clarified, "I'm glad she's found someone. I just think it's unwise for her to run off like that in the middle of a school day."

"Oh, come now, Constance," she nudged her in jest, "You're just jealous you couldn't have escaped with her."

Constance blushed profusely, but Amelia didn't appear to have noticed. Yes, she wished she could've escaped, but not _with_ her … perhaps to stop her, to grab her by the wrist and drag her off into the trees and kiss her passionately, to plead with her not to keep dating that silly oaf of a man …

But she shook those thoughts from her mind, reminding herself where she currently stood with her – spontaneous kisses were only going to make things even more awkward between them and much harder for Constance if Imogen never returned them …

"Besides," Amelia continued, "She'll be back within an hour. I told her to take as long as she liked, but she promised she wouldn't be long."

"Hmm," Constance replied in disbelief, but left it at that.

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><p>"Give me a hand, Miss Hardbroom!"<p>

"_Oh, for goodness' sake_! It's his _eye_ that's injured, not his _legs_!"

Amelia's brow furrowed as she realized this, and she let the Grand Wizard go. Unfortunately he was hell-bent on being a drama queen, and with a soft groan he collapsed to the floor.

The two witches exchanged surprised glances before pulling the wizard back onto his feet.

"Come along, _your honor_!" Constance said, not bothering to hide the sarcasm, pulling him along like a disobedient child towards Miss Cackle's office.

"I'll take him from here, Miss Hardbroom," Amelia assured, taking hold of his other arm, "Why don't you go and see if Miss Drill's returned yet? I have a feeling she might have gotten herself locked out again."

"Yes, Miss Cackle," Constance obeyed, but let out an annoyed sigh once she was out of earshot. She knew that now would not be the time to remind her headmistress again that _Miss Drill_ shouldn't have left in the first place.

She threw open the front gate, looking about. At first she didn't see Imogen – she just saw her bike. She sat on the bench with her head in her hands, and she looked up, her eyes red from crying. They locked eyes for a moment, and Imogen pulled herself up, snatching her bike.

"What happened?"

"Nothing."

The witch stepped into her path, and Imogen nearly ran her bike straight through her.

"Move," Imogen ordered, her brows furrowed in anger but her eyes were downcast.

Constance gritted her teeth and stepped forward, pushing Imogen's bike backward by the handlebars.

"What are you doing? Let me pass!"

Constance shut the front gate, locking the two of them outside the school grounds and away from any prying eyes.

"What happened?" Constance demanded once more.

"I already told you, nothing happened."

"Then why are you crying?"

Imogen finally gathered the courage to meet the witch's eyes, staring back at her, her green eyes filled with hurt as well as tears.

That was all Constance needed.

She took a breath, clenched her fists at her sides as sparks of magick emitted from her fingertips. She began to storm off down the gravel driveway in the direction of the town.

"Wait—_Constance_!" Imogen called, dropping her bike and rushing over to grab the crook of her arm, but the witch shrugged her away, continuing on her way to find the man she was certain was responsible for these tears.

Imogen rushed into her path, and Constance half-stumbled into her.

"Imogen!" she snapped in annoyance as the sports mistress awkwardly caught her, stopping her from falling.

"It's not what you think."

Constance folded her arms across her chest, staring down the woman.

"Miss Drill, I understand that it is none of my business, but as deputy headmistress it is up to me to ensure the safety of the staff as well as students-"

"It really is nothing though!" Imogen answered back, "I'm just … under a lot of stress, that's all."

Constance raised a brow in disbelief, "Then _why_ didn't you just say so?"

"You didn't exactly give me time to," she said with a humorless laugh, running a hand through her short blonde hair and looking away.

Constance bit the inside of her cheek, trying hard to quickly come down from the adrenaline rush that had just taken over her. For a moment there, she was convinced Serge had ... done something … but Imogen appeared fine, besides the tears … she didn't believe her, but she knew she wasn't going to get the truth out of her, not after yesterday …

That kiss had been an accident, yes, but she still had feelings for Imogen, that she couldn't deny … she cared enough about that insufferable little non-witch that she nearly stormed into town to blast her boyfriend into oblivion! Gods help him if he ever raised a hand to her …

"We're expected in the staffroom," Constance said, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened, and their eyes met briefly before she turned and walked back up to the school, holding the gate open for Imogen and her bike.

The blonde stopped slightly in her steps just as she passed her, as if she considered saying something, but the words wouldn't come and she walked on.

Constance couldn't help watching her for a moment as she crossed the courtyard, and only when the non-witch glanced around at her did she avert her gaze and close the gates.

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><p><strong>(AN)**- hope you liked this one better! Sorry if HB seems OOC but I just didn't think she'd stand for the possibility of such a thing ... reviews! :D


	21. Not Over You

**(A/N)**- Thanks for reviews, enjoy!

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><p><strong>- Not Over You -<strong>

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><p>"Shouldn't the question be '<em>are'<em>?"

"What?"

"_Are_ wizards more important than witches?"

"Suit yourself. It'll come out the same in the wash."

Imogen looked to Constance, but her gaze remained straight ahead, calm and collected. She was genuinely surprised that the witch didn't make him choke on those words … but she remained silent. Imogen began to wonder if all wizards were like this … if they were, no wonder Constance wasn't … well …

"Drill can be chair, the rest can muck in as they like."

Imogen looked over at the man, half tempted to refuse. Constance finally spoke up.

"Well, I'm not quite sure …"

But the wizard cut her off, and she let out a huff and resumed her silence.

"Why did you let him talk like that?" Imogen asked afterwards once their headmistress and the Grand Wizard exited the room. Davina, who had jumped out of the cupboard just moments earlier and had given the man a near heart attack, was perched in her usual chair.

"Yes, why did you, Constance?" she echoed.

The witch rolled her eyes and looked pointedly at them, "He's the _Grand Wizard_! What was I supposed to say?"

"_I_ should've said something. But then I'm certain he would've brushed me off as a silly non-witch, and being a woman to boot …"

Constance opened her mouth, but she quickly closed it, shaking her head, "He's ignorant, sexist, conservative … there's no getting through to him."

"Sounds like someone I know …" Davina said through giggles, which died down instantly when Constance shot her a death-glare.

"Constance is nowhere near as bad as him," Imogen defended before she could stop herself, and the witch looked to her, slightly taken aback, but she quickly turned her gaze back to her hands on the table.

"We should get going now, shall we?" she suggested, and rose from her chair and left without another word.

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><p>Imogen sat behind her desk on the stage, only half-aware of the arguing that was going on between the young witches and wizards. She couldn't believe Hellebore picked her to be chair, but then again she could; she was the only non-magickal person on staff and he probably supposed it would make the debate fair. Truthfully, she didn't want to have any part of it. Having only met Hellebore and his boys, it was safe to say that witches were indeed better than wizards. But when it came to the sexes, she had always been a firm believer in equality. This day, however, she was too upset with herself to care either way.<p>

She meant to break up with Serge earlier today. She pedaled off into the woods in high spirits, taking comfort in the fact that neither of them had known each other long enough to be hurt by this decision. She was confident it would be for the best – and she swore to herself over and over again that she wasn't going to do this just because she might still have a chance with Constance … although she couldn't deny it _was_ an incentive …

Serge barely gave her time to speak, and Imogen was too polite to cut him off. He spoke excitedly about his camp, and in the end he asked her to work there with him over the summer.

It all hit her like a ton of bricks, but eventually she said yes, and kicked herself mentally for it afterwards.

It was strange how it happened … but she figured it was a moment of panic. She liked the idea of working at a summer camp, the chance to work with children without grades and paperwork involved, plus the extra money couldn't hurt … but she wished she could've accepted his offer _as friends_.

She felt so guilty in his presence. He looked at her with such love and adoration, and Imogen … she felt nothing. And she hated herself for it. She wanted to love him. After all, they had so much in common. They'd be the picture perfect couple … if he'd stop pressuring her to grow her hair out and dress up like a lady, anyway.

But her heart still belonged to Constance, and she didn't realize the witch had it in the first place until she dared to try and move on.

And that kiss the other day … she knew Constance still had feelings too, no matter how much the witch apologized for what happened. She could scarcely believe anyone could kiss someone 'accidentally'.

Imogen glanced around the room as she twirled her pencil like a ballerina, and her eyes fell upon Constance, whose brown eyes were fixated with a look of disapproval as she looked to the two teams. She caught her gaze for a fleeting second before the witch looked away again. Imogen continued to stare at her, and soon she raised her brown eyes to meet hers, looking at her with that unreadable look in her eyes like she always did.

Imogen looked back down at her pencil with a quiet sigh.

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><p>The debate ended sooner than anyone could've imagined when Mildred came forward and revealed that the boys had been cheating with a potion that made them sound more intelligible.<p>

"I still can't believe it," Imogen said later on in the staffroom once their guests had left that evening, "Do you think Hellebore put them up to it?"

"It's likely," Constance replied as she graded her pamphlets, "Though I'd imagine he would be so confident that wizards are always right, he might not resort to such a thing."

"Typical of men, really, to cheat … don't mean to be sexist, but …"

Constance raised a brow, eying her concernedly, "Is that what …"

"No, not Serge," Imogen clarified, "Actually … he asked me to work at his camp over the summer."

"That's nice," Constance replied distractedly as she turned back to her papers, scribbling notes in red ink, "It must be pretty serious then …"

"Not really, actually ... I planned to break up with him."

Constance looked up from her papers, looking paler than usual as she stared back at the non-witch.

"I planned to break up with him because I'm still not over you."

Silence fell in the staffroom after this confession, Constance's eyes still looking fearfully back at her. It felt like ages before the witch finally broke the gaze, returning to her papers. She stacked them up neatly, straightening them on the table with a few taps before getting up from her chair.

"You have lights out tonight; make … make sure to double-check the front gate because Mr. Blossom's not here today …"

"Right," Imogen replied, swallowing hard as her tears clouded her vision, and she looked away.

Constance remained a moment longer, and Imogen half expected the woman to approach her, or at least say something, but she soon went on her way, shutting the door behind her.

Once her footsteps faded away, the non-witch allowed herself to sob freely, burying her face in her arms on the staffroom table.

A creaking sound met her ears, the all-too-familiar creak of the stationary cupboard door …

Her heart plummeted, and she rushed to wipe her tears from her face, "Davina … I …" she struggled to think of an excuse, but words failed her, and besides, the batty old witch must have heard them …

Imogen summoned the courage to look up at her, fresh tears beginning to roll down her face despite how much she willed them away.

Davina looked back at her pitifully, almost being brought to tears herself by the sight of her.

"Oh_, Imogen_ …" she said mournfully, and wrapped her arms around her tightly.

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><p><strong>(AN)**- I apologize for the angst, trying to lighten it up a bit but I suppose my own mood affects my writing. :P Please review! Next will be 'Bolt from the Blue'


	22. What Happens Next

**(A/N)**- Two chapters over the course of two days! Sign of the apocalypse! Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed my last, hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! :)

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><p><strong>- What Happens Next -<strong>

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><p>It was nearly the end of term, and Constance Hardbroom had just posted her final exam grades. After telling Mildred off for being satisfied with her abysmal marks in Potions, she stormed off to her classroom, only to find that her colleagues were fussing over Miss Cackle, who had been given a potion from a recycled bottle.<p>

Constance was angry at Davina for looking through her cabinets without asking, but what's done was done. Now they just had to wait it out.

"Imogen, what about your trip?" Davina asked when Imogen agreed to take the last shift of the night to check in on their headmistress.

"Oh … well, I just thought …" she shrugged carelessly, "Can't leave now, what with Miss Cackle like this ..."

"Oh, yes, of _course _you can't, dear …" Davina replied in a teasing sort of tone, and Constance looked over just in time to see the chanting mistress wink knowingly at Imogen, who blushed and looked away when Constance shot a questioning look in her direction.

She didn't dare ask; she just breathed a heavy sigh and fought back a smirk as Davina jumped at the sound of thunder rumbling outside.

"A bad omen if there ever was one."

Constance rolled her eyes at the batty old witch before ascending the staircase, "I'll take over in a couple of hours, Davina, just check to make sure the girls are all tucked in their beds …"

She stopped at the top of the steps and waited until Davina was heading down the corridor before taking Imogen aside, "Miss Drill, there really is no need …"

"I already called and told him," she said firmly, "I'm staying till the end of term. That's that."

Constance nodded, too mentally exhausted with worry for her headmistress to argue. She looked down the hall as Davina turned the corner and disappeared from sight, and looked back to Imogen. She wanted to ask her if she told her anything … but she decided not to bother. What would be the point, really? Unless Davina outright said something, there was really no proof …

"All right, well … goodnight, Miss Drill," she said politely, and headed off to her bedroom.

"Goodnight, Miss Hardbroom," Imogen called after her.

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><p>Constance scarcely knew how to react when she witnessed her headmistress, undoubtedly affected by the potion she'd been accidentally given the day previous, drag Mildred out of the classroom by her ear. Granted, the girl frustrated her enough but she would dare not to lay a hand on her or harm her in any way, and the sight of Amelia doing so reminded her of her school days with her strict form tutor …<p>

"Poor Mildred!" Imogen exclaimed.

"It's not Mildred we should be worried about. It's what happens next."

"But you saw Ethel cast that spell, as well as I did-"

"Yes, but there's no sense in dragging her into this as well."

Imogen was outraged, "It's her who should be in there! Not Mildred!"

"_No_ student should be in there – no student should have to face expulsion for _that_. If that's the way we ran things around here, we'd lose the entire student body! Amelia's not in her right mind, that's all, I'm sure it'll pass in due time-"

"I'm going in there," Imogen announced, and strode over to the door. Constance snatched her arm only to be easily shrugged away by a strength she wasn't prepared for.

The non-witch threw open the door and Constance followed close behind, but not before ordering Davina to stay put. The first thing she saw was Mildred crying in a corner, backed up against the wall as Amelia berated her. It sent a chill down Constance's spine, like looking into a mirror that reflected her own childhood.

"Miss Cackle, what on earth has gotten into you?!" Imogen thundered.

"I beg your pardon?" the crazed witch snapped.

"Forgive her, headmistress, she's not well-"

"You can't expel her, so soon before the end of term! It's _unethical_!"

"Imogen, _please_," Constance gripped her arm insistently, trying to drag her from the room but the non-witch refused to budge. Her eyes caught her troublesome student as she choked out a sob and looked away. It made her sick to look at her. She wanted to grab her and save her from the headmistress's tirade, but she knew it would only make things worse if she tried …

"Do you have a problem with the way I run this school?"

"No, she doesn't-"

"As a matter of fact, _I do_," Imogen replied, "This is so unlike you! You're obviously just having a bad day and –"

"Resign!"

Imogen was taken aback by this, and her voice faltered, "W-_what_?"

"Well it's not like you're serving much of a purpose here anyway. What good is a non-witch working in a witch school? You're not benefitting the curriculum in any way, might as well resign! Or I can fire you, whichever you prefer!"

"Imogen, just-"

But Constance didn't have to bother trying to make her leave; Imogen already strode out of the room, practically shoving past Constance as she went.

The dazed deputy head looked to Mildred, who was silently crying, and her gaze fell upon Miss Cackle. She wanted to say something, she wanted to … horrible as it sounded, she wanted to teach her a lesson. But this wasn't Miss Cackle. This _couldn't_ be …

She swallowed her pride, and left in pursuit of Imogen.

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><p>She found the non-witch in her bedroom, rummaging through her clothes and stuffing some into a suitcase on her bed.<p>

"What are you doing?" Constance asked, causing her to jump slightly in surprise.

Imogen's eyes and face were tinged red, obviously from crying, but she looked indifferent as she glanced up at the witch.

"Packing for camp," she said casually, as if the fight downstairs hadn't occurred at all.

"I thought you weren't going until the end of term?"

"Amelia doesn't want me here, so I figured I might as well …" she said with a careless shrug.

"Are you planning on coming back?"

Imogen fell silent for a while as she zipped up a pocket, chewing her lip thoughtfully.

"I'll send you a letter, before the next term ..."

Constance sighed, "Don't be ridiculous, Imogen …"

"I'm not wanted here," she said seriously, "Never really have been, have I? Have I just been some sort of running joke to you all? Keep the non-witch around, make her assume she's wanted, see how long it takes for her to figure that out?"

Imogen turned to put her pants away, and Constance shot a spell at her bag, making it disappear into thin air. The non-witch jumped out of her skin, dropping her clothes with a small cry of shock. It didn't take her long to realize what had happened, and her arms fell to her sides in exasperation.

"Zap it back," Imogen ordered, placing her hands on her hips as she stared the witch down.

"Not until the end of term." Constance replied simply, folding her arms across her chest.

"But I haven't enough clothes left!" she exclaimed.

"Wear what you're wearing now," Constance replied, suppressing a smug smirk.

"_Constance_ …"

"You're not seriously going to quit just because Amelia isn't herself for _one day_, are you?" she asked incredulously, "It's obvious that whatever she drank hasn't worked its way out of system yet. Just give it time."

Imogen considered this, and finally relented with a sigh, "You're right … but can't you give her something in the meantime?"

"Since what she took was just an experiment, I can't be sure whatever I give her won't react with it and make it worse. We'll just have to wait it out."

Imogen nodded, looking down.

"You know Miss Cackle fought to keep you here. We had three other candidates, all of them witches, but she hired you."

Imogen scrunched up her nose in confusion, "Why?"

"How should I know?" she asked, "She said she just knew you were fit for the job. What she's saying now, that's … it's just not her."

"And what did you think?" Imogen asked curiously, stepping towards her, "About my being here?"

"Oh I was against it from day one," Constance admitted without skipping a beat, "I thought you were under qualified for the job, being a non-witch didn't help things …"

"But …?" Imogen added hopefully.

"There are _no_ buts; I despised you completely," she said matter-of-factly, "As time went on, however … well, you proved me wrong."

It wasn't until Constance said it aloud that she realized she could be implying otherwise … and once she did, she didn't mind it one bit. It was the truth, after all … despite their current predicament.

Imogen smiled shyly, looking down, "Good to know," was all she said about it before she held out her hand to the witch, beckoning to her.

"May I have my luggage back, please?"

"Certainly," Constance replied, fighting back a grin as she turned to leave, "Right after you've seen to supper."

Imogen groaned in annoyance, "Knew I should've resigned," she teased as she followed the witch out.

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><p><strong>(AN)**- please review! :D


	23. Punishment

**(A/N)**- I might rewrite some of this, just a heads up - I'll make a note of it if I do. Thanks for the reviews everyone! Keep them coming - I'm determined to finish this!

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><p><strong>- Punishment -<strong>

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><p>Imogen headed down the stairs after Constance, her mind reeling over the talk they just had … she felt guilty about it, actually. How could Constance want her to stay, after … well, <em>everything<em>. Perhaps there was still some hope left for them? Imogen had no idea how to ask … especially after being ignored the other day when she told Constance she wasn't over her.

"Constance …?" Imogen called as she headed down the last few steps, and the witch turned around.

But before Imogen could open her mouth to speak, Amelia came trudging out of her office with Mildred in tow, her hand in a vice around the poor girl's arm.

Amelia looked to Imogen without stopping, "You're still here then?" she asked in disgust.

Imogen looked to the floor, biting her tongue as she felt Constance's eyes upon her.

"Come, Constance," Amelia ordered as she made her way up the staircase, "Help me see this meddlesome girl to her room."

Imogen looked to the witch, who met her eyes fearfully.

"_Now_!" Amelia barked from the top of the steps, and Constance jumped to attention, following after her headmistress without so much as a second glance at the non-witch.

Imogen watched until the potions mistress disappeared around the corner before she could finally summon the strength to move, forcing a smile as she opened the side-door to the great hall and saw to the girls' dinner.

"She's shut her up in her room."

Imogen jumped slightly, too lost in thought to have heard or seen that Constance had returned, standing beside her as the sports mistress stood in front of the empty fireplace while the girls ate the supper. The witch did not look at her. Her gaze seemed far away as she stared straight ahead, her arms folded tightly around her middle.

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><p>"Confiscation of broomstick should any of the girls enter. Might as well have locked the door; you know her friends are as troublesome as she is …"<p>

"Are you saying you're okay with this?" Imogen asked incredulously.

"Not with the punishment, no, but at least now she can't possibly get into any more trouble whilst confined to her room."

"You're talking about Mildred," Imogen reminded, "And besides, what use is it to her to stay out of trouble? She's already going to be expelled."

Constance's gaze fell to the floor and she moved uncomfortably from foot to foot.

"What is it?" Imogen asked, "Don't tell me there's something worse than expulsion …"

Constance shook her head, "No, it's just …" she finally looked to her, and glanced back at the girls before stepping closer to her colleague, talking under her breath, "I have a plan. The papers to sign her out of the school require _my_ signature. _I'm_ the one who has to send the letters out. _I'm_ the one who will have to contact her parents to collect her."

"What are you saying?" Imogen asked incredulously, "If she finds out-"

"She won't find out because I'll just send her home."

"And what about next year? If Amelia's still not in her right mind?"

"You should be happy I'm at least attempting to save her," Constance said, hurt evident in her eyes, "Earlier you were angry with me for not trying at all."

"No I'm glad, it's just … I don't want to see you lose your job over this nonsense."

Constance looked away, her gaze falling upon the girls and she glanced up at the clock.

"Alright now, girls, time for bed!" she announced, "Clear your area!"

Imogen reluctantly tore her gaze away from her to help Miss Tapioca gather the plates, and once she looked back, the witch was gone.

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><p>Determined to avoid another run-in with Amelia, Imogen didn't leave the great hall until it was spotless, spending some extra time with Miss Tapioca and Mr. Blossom. She didn't tell them about Amelia, and they didn't ask – they probably hadn't seen the drastic changes that woman had gone through, and she envied them for that. They took her mind off things, talking excitedly about the things they planned to do with their families over the summer holiday.<p>

When they asked her about her plans, she simply shrugged and said she hadn't planned to do anything yet. She blamed it on the long semester and left it at that. She wanted to stay positive, and just thinking of summer camp tied her stomach up in knots.

She approached her bedroom, limbs tired and aching from a day of classes and additional manual labor, not to mention the emotional strain … she looked forward to her uncomfortable twin-sized mattress now, more than ever.

"Imogen?"

She saw Constance standing outside her bedroom door, already dressed in her purple nightgown, her hair let down in an inky waterfall … Imogen couldn't help but blush at the sight of her as she remembered all the other moments when she'd witnessed her looking like this …

"I almost forgot to zap your luggage back," she explained, and pointed her spell-casting fingers to the floor beside her, making the suitcase reappear.

"You could've just left it outside the door," Imogen suggested with a small grin.

"I didn't want to leave it unattended," Constance explained as Imogen approached her.

"Could've just unlocked my door," Imogen said, "I wouldn't have minded."

Constance caught her gaze for a moment, then blushed and looked away, clearing her throat.

"Well, I must be off then …" she decided as she began to walk away.

"Constance …" Imogen called, wanting to thank her.

The witch turned, facing her, her eyes glassy with tears, and it took Imogen completely off guard.

"I'm not over you either …" Constance echoed the non-witch's words from the day previous, looking shocked at the words that spilled from her mouth.

The witch clenched her fists at her sides and looked down a moment before folding her arms tightly and disappearing into thin air, leaving Imogen standing there in complete disbelief of what had just happened.

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><p><strong>(AN)**- Reviews please! :) Next chapter will wrap up Bolt from the Blue and then onto the next episode!


	24. Snapped

**(A/N)**- Sorry for the long wait! Thanks for the reviews! Hope you enjoy! :) Many thanks to **typicalRAinbow** for helping me out!

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><p><strong>- Snapped -<strong>

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><p>Constance closed her classroom door with a sigh of relief, feeling she had just succeeded in washing away the worries of her colleagues in regards to their headmistress. She was also proud of herself for managing to talk to Imogen as if nothing had ever happened as usual, and Imogen seemed far too concerned about Miss Cackle to mention it.<p>

_"I'm not over you either …" _

Her words last night to Imogen had been ringing in her mind all night, keeping her from a good night's rest, not that she was prone to having a good night's rest in the first place. There was of course Amelia's predicament as well. She kept hoping beyond hope that whatever had gotten into their headmistress would work its way out of her sooner rather than later. She had considered slipping a potion into her morning tea … but if whatever concoction she drank previous was still in her system, then whatever Constance might give her could possibly act as a poison and do her serious harm …

She shuddered slightly, pushing aside such thoughts, but then thoughts of a certain blonde resurfaced in her mind …

She _had_ meant what she said to Imogen. She was just so disappointed in herself for admitting it. It was bad enough Imogen told her … but if Imogen wasn't over her, why was she still seeing Serge? Why did she _almost_ break up with him?

She sat at her desk with her head in her hands, trying to rid her mind of Imogen … and yet every time she closed her eyes there she was … and her heart wrenched in her chest, because she knew she could never be with her.

"Constance!" Imogen called as she threw open the door.

She rose from her chair quickly, and in that movement the old Constance was back.

"What is it?" she demanded, eyes wide and concerned as Imogen stared back, momentarily frozen, her hand shaking slightly as she still grasped the doorknob.

"Miss Cackle, she's –"

Constance didn't need to hear any more – she quickly strode towards the door, ready to face another potentially dangerous situation as always.

"I mean ... it's _not_ Miss Cackle, it's –"

Constance sighed loudly, "Miss Drill, what is the _matter_?"

"Agatha," she said finally, and Constance's hardened gaze quickly transformed into that of worry, of fear for her colleagues and her students but most of all Imogen, especially after their last encounter in the woods …

"Where is she?"

"It's all right; Miss Cackle and Mildred are dealing with her."

"_Mildred_?" Constance replied shrilly in her usual manner.

"I'll explain later," Imogen replied, "Come on."

Imogen appeared to reach over to take her hand … but then she awkwardly stepped away with a slight shake of her head as she headed down the hall towards the staircase.

Constance blinked, momentarily dumbstruck by the gesture, but the sound of cackling coming from the dungeons met her ears, and she sprang into action once more, running as fast as her heels would allow her.

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><p>"Mildred here has just puffified Agatha and her friends," Amelia explained briefly to Constance once she arrived in the dungeons, looking wildly around at an empty room for the culprits.<p>

"Well done, Mildred …" Constance finally managed once she regained her composure, "Unfortunately I will have to re-puffify them to ensure that they pay dearly for their actions …"

"Shall I notify the authorities?" Amelia asked, raising a knowing brow.

"Indeed you shall," Constance affirmed, "And now I must ask you all to leave," she ordered, looking to Mildred, Maud, and Enid, who didn't need telling twice as they dutifully exited the room, followed by Amelia. Imogen went to follow, but she stopped in her tracks, only to be coaxed along by her headmistress. With one last worried glance at Constance, she reluctantly followed suit.

Constance waited until she heard the door at the top of the stairs close, and with a heavy sigh, she shook out her hands, flexing her fingers before doing her usual spell-casting gesture (pinkie and pointer fingers pointed outwards) and waving them in circles into the air.

"_Reversus Revolvus, Returnus Resolvus, Alpha Omega, Ofus Adofus!"_

The three witches appeared before her, stumbling over each other for a moment before they realized that they had been re-puffified … and they caught sight of Constance.

Agatha raised her hands, attempting to cast a spell, but Constance, who already had her spell-casting fingers raised, quickly cast a binding spell, causing the three to seize up, and they stood back to back of one another in a circle, as if bound with rope, their feet glued to the floor. They screamed out in irritation, like three mangy cats whose tails had just been trodden on.

"Un-bind us now, Constance Hardbroom, and fight like a real witch!" Agatha snarled.

Constance raised a brow but said nothing, and sat on an old stool, watching the three. She supposed she should keep guard, just to be safe … the PDM (Police Department of Magick) always arrived swiftly enough, so she knew she didn't have to wait very long.

"Where's that rotten girl? Haven't you taught your students anything? Puffifying someone is a serious offense!"

Constance remained silent, focusing her gaze at a corner of the room but making sure to watch the witches from the corner of her eye … not as if they could go anywhere, anyway, but still …

"When I get my hands on her, she's going to wish she's never been born!"

"Oh, _shut your yap_, Agatha!" Bindweed snapped, "You should have done something when you had the chance!"

"Yes, what good has following the Witches Code done you?" Coldstone agreed, "We're going to wind up in prison anyway!"

Agatha fell silent and stewed in her anger, her thick bottle-bottom glasses magnifying her angry eyes as she stared down Constance, who refused to meet her gaze.

"When I do get out – and _I will_ – do you know what I'm going to do?" she seethed.

Constance remained stoic, focusing her gaze more intensely on the far wall.

"First I'm going to take care of that meddlesome girl, string her up by her plaits in this very dungeon."

"Next I'll deal with my sister, turn her into a toad again and make sure she stays that way. I'll keep her in a jar in my office so she can see how a school's supposed to be run!"

"Then I'll lock that ridiculous chanting teacher in the cupboard for the rest of her years."

"Keep it up, Agatha," Constance replied evenly, finally meeting the angry witch's gaze, "Just keep digging your own grave."

"Then _you_," she sneered with a sick toothy grin, "I'll make you my personal slave."

Constance rolled her eyes, shaking her head in disbelief as she looked away again.

"Then the non-witch …"

Constance curled her fists in her folded arms and clenched her jaw, focusing her steely gaze back upon Amelia's evil twin.

"You know what they used to do to non-witches, back in the day … I'll make her pay for what she's done to me."

"She hasn't done _anything_ to you," Constance argued, forgetting her calm demeanor, "_None of us_ has done anything to you. Any spells cast at you were a result of your own foolish behavior."

"My twin sister-"

"Your twin sister inherited the school, _not_ you. The sooner you face it, the sooner you can move on with your life."

"You best keep your mouth shut, Constance Hardbroom! You know not of what you speak of!"

"Not entirely, no, but it's obvious to everyone that you need a hobby," Constance snapped, folding her arms closer to her chest as she glanced up at the small dungeon window, wondering when the police officers would arrive.

"Speaking of hobbies …" Agatha began, and Constance huffed in annoyance, preparing to cast a silencing spell despite the potential danger of the Doctor Foster's effect.

"Agatha, shut it!" Bindweed howled, "You're givin' me a splittin' headache!"

Agatha ignored her, and continued with a sick smile in Constance's direction, "Your little non-witch. Does she know what witches used to do to her kind?"

Constance shifted uneasily in her seat, despite herself. A sick feeling began to churn in her stomach as her thoughts momentarily drifted to the stories she'd heard amidst her studies in ancient history. The thought of Imogen suffering such brutal torture … she gritted her teeth to keep the tears at bay.

"If she did, do you think she'd feel so comfortable working here? Why don't you bring her in here, I can show her-"

Constance snapped.

She flung a spell at Agatha, sealing her lips shut with magick, the spell itself slapping her in the face as it fulfilled its purpose, causing her glasses to fly off of her face.

Constance tore her eyes away – she couldn't look at her – the woman looked so much like her sister, and she knew Amelia would never say such hurtful things … it was just unnerving.

The other two witches cheered, despite it all, thanking Constance for shutting her up, but Constance paid no mind. She stormed up the steps, wishing she had done so sooner as her binding spell was enough to keep them confined for the time being.

She was about to reach the door at the top of the steps when a figure moved in the shadows, and she jumped slightly, choking back on her tears before she realized who it was.

"Imogen?" she asked in a hoarse whisper, afraid that the prisoners might overhear but she could hear their voices far enough away to be certain that they were out of earshot.

The non-witch neared her in the darkness of the stairwell, the only light coming from beneath the door that led to the first floor corridor.

Constance could only assume Imogen had heard it all, for she emitted a small sniffle and even in the darkness she could tell that her eyes were glassy. She breathed shakily, staring back at the witch, unsure of what to say.

"I never did thank you," Constance said suddenly, jumping on the first thought that crossed her mind, though she was unsure why it did just now, "For staying behind … you could have left me alone to deal with her ... you … you could've gone on your vacation. I know I had Davina, but we all know she would've closed herself up in the cupboard sooner or later …" she said with a humorless laugh, feeling sick to herself as she remembered Agatha's threat about locking Miss Bat in there for good … "I'm just grateful that you stayed … with me …"

Imogen smiled softly but said nothing. Instead she neared closer to the witch, causing Constance to hold her breath for a moment in shock as the blonde placed a soft kiss on her burgundy lips.

Constance stared back in disbelief as the younger woman breathed shallowly, her green eyes gazing back at her, watching, waiting …

If it had been any other day, she might have told her off and disappeared. Imogen was, after all, still dating _Serge_. But after dealing with Agatha …

She closed the space between them and kissed her back with a sense of urgency, of need, hoping she could somehow express through a single kiss how much she dreaded losing her forever …

Imogen kissed back with matched intensity, and no words needed to be exchanged. It was obvious to her that Imogen did indeed overhear everything that the dreadful witch threatened to do.

Voices met her ears and she broke the kiss in time for the door to open up, and Amelia appeared with two cops in tow, two witches dressed in black with silver badges and magickal radios attached to their hips.

"Ah, Miss Hardbroom!" Amelia greeted, seemingly unaware of how flustered her deputy head must have looked at that exact moment. She did not address Imogen, who guiltily slipped away without a word – Constance guessed that Amelia must've told her not to go back down to the dungeons and she had disobeyed.

"She didn't cause you too much trouble, I hope?" Amelia asked, and Constance was momentarily confused as to who she was referring to.

"My sister, Agatha?" she pressed.

"Oh, yes," Constance replied, and shut her eyes in annoyance as she corrected herself, "I mean no. No trouble at all. I've just bound them with a spell. If you'll please follow me, officers, I'll remove it for you …"

She shut the door behind them as she descended the stairs back down to the dungeons, taking a deep breath as she willed herself to focus and push the non-witch from her mind for the time being.

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><p><strong>(AN)-** didn't go as expected but oh wells ... the next isn't the next episode quite yet ... well, we'll see. ;p Reviews please! They srsly fuel me, although with the updates being rather slow I expect you can't tell. :P I plan to finish this fic! I will not abandon it!


	25. Everything Between Us

**(A/N)**- So sorry for this late update! I hope you like it! I can't promise when the next one will be but hopefully there won't be this long of a wait next time so bear with me! Thank you for everyone who has reviewed and I'm so thankful that you still have interest in this story!

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><p><strong>- Everything Between Us -<strong>

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><p>Once Agatha and her henchwomen were carted off, Amelia went to her office to file a witness statement to send to OfWitch. Davina was seeing to breakfast. And Imogen was nowhere in sight, so Constance went off in search of her.<p>

It wasn't long until she found the blonde, sitting on a folded mat in the sports shed, biting her nails.

"Give your nails a rest, the wicked witches have been dealt with," she remarked with a small smile as she closed the shed door behind her.

Imogen removed her fingers from her mouth, and ran them through her hair instead, her gaze distant.

She knew that look. Constance herself had made that same look before. Imogen was regretting their kiss.

"Imogen …" Constance began, hoping to take advantage of the silence by saying her peace … but Imogen soon cut her off.

"I'm so sorry, Constance," Imogen said, shaking her head, her gaze finally meeting hers.

Constance got caught in her eyes for a moment before shaking her head slightly, forcing a small and brief smile, "It's fine," she assured, "Don't worry about it."

"But I _kissed_ you-"

"I said don't worry about it," Constance repeated firmly, clenching her jaw as she tried to will away the memory of their intimate encounter, still so fresh in her mind … she could still feel Imogen's lips on hers … it was her fault. Imogen kissed her first, yes, but she kissed her back. She gave her permission. She approved the gesture. And yet …

"It was impulsive," Constance clarified, trying to make logical sense out of their little moment, "You obviously overheard Agatha and you were … overcome …"

"As were you," Imogen reminded, raising a brow in annoyance.

"We were _both_ overcome," Constance corrected, "It was an accident."

"Was it?" Imogen asked and her voice cracked.

The witch looked over at her, stone-faced. Inside, she was battling the urge to tell Imogen to choose between her and Serge. She wanted to grab her face and kiss her, make her feel things she'd never felt before with Serge, or anyone. She wanted to make her forget all about that silly summer camp job and keep her company at the castle instead … but she couldn't make her do anything, despite the loop-holes she could jump through with magick … she couldn't do that to Imogen. It would have to be her choice. She couldn't make her break up with Serge – she couldn't even suggest it. Imogen would hate her forever if she wasn't happy with the outcome, and Constance was sure that she wouldn't enjoy spending the rest of her life with someone such as herself …

Imogen forced a smile, and looked down with a nod, "Of course it was. Just another … mistake."

"Don't beat yourself up over it," Constance chided, "You can't honestly say that you wanted that to happen."

"Of course not," Imogen replied, "It's just … we felt something, in that moment. I just wish you could admit that."

"Miss Drill …"

"No," the sports mistress got to her feet, shaking her head slowly, "No, you don't get to '_Miss Drill' _me … I know you felt something too."

"Yes I _did_," Constance replied matter-of-factly, "_Adrenaline_. I'd just been threatened by an evil witch, I will admit that she did get under my skin and I wanted some comfort, but that does not mean-"

"I'm not talking about just _today_, Constance!" Imogen practically shouted, taking the witch aback, "I'm talking about all those other times, the Halloween flight, the potions lab, my … _bedroom_!"

Constance's face flushed and she averted her eyes, but she couldn't tear her gaze from her for too long, too shocked by the non-witch's outburst to tear herself away.

"I'm tired of pretending there's nothing between us when there's _everything_ between us."

"Including Serge," Constance reminded nonchalantly, seemingly unaffected by the blonde's tirade, "You're still dating him, aren't you?"

"That's not fair," Imogen choked out through the tears that had begun to well up in her eyes.

"No, _it isn't_. How dare you stand there and proclaim to have feelings for me when you're seeing someone else?"

"I was trying to get over you." Imogen replied hollowly.

"As you've said before," Constance replied with a sigh.

"You're not over me either, or did you conveniently forget your late night proclaimation?"

Constance stood there, lips pursed and arms folded, but she looked over at Imogen regardless of her guarded stature, her eyes softening.

"I can't break up with him, not like this … given the circumstances …"

"So you'd rather spend the summer with him and keep up this charade?"

Imogen rubbed her neck nervously and looked to the floor in shame.

Constance nodded, tears filling her eyes, "Fine then," she managed to say, her voice cracking slightly.

"Constance, I just need time to think …"

But Constance had already disappeared into thin air, leaving Imogen alone in the sports shed to work out her thoughts.

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><p>Constance Hardbroom sipped her tea in the staffroom, having successfully avoided Imogen until she left for her summer job. Amelia had gone off to visit with her other sister, Adelaide, for the summer, presumably to discuss with her how their sister Agatha's punishment should be handled. As for Davina, she could only assume that the batty old witch had already left to travel to some obscure country.<p>

Or so she thought …

Davina came bumbling into the staffroom, broom and carpet bag in hand as she rushed for the stationary cupboard, talking under her breath.

She felt like she should ask, but the possibility of the woman grabbing whatever it was she had forgotten and leaving without even seeing her deputy headmistress was very enticing …

"Constance!" Davina exclaimed, having caught her reflection in the frosted glass of the cupboard. She looked around with a smile, and it faltered immediately at the sight of her looking so somber, "Have you seen my sunglasses?"

"No," she replied curtly, sipping her tea.

Davina sighed in disappointment, dropping her things onto the floor and pulling up a chair, "Well, it's far too sunny to be flying without them, so I'll have to call a cab."

Constance paid no attention to her colleague, her gaze lost in the intricate patterns on the tablecloth.

"I didn't get to say goodbye to Imogen, has she gone already?"

"Yes."

Davina nodded awkwardly, looking down, "You know, Constance … she doesn't love him."

"Davina …" Constance began in a low growl, ready to frighten the old woman into never mentioning the sports mistress to her ever again. Her piercing eyes locked onto hers, and she opened her mouth to begin her tirade, but she seemed to not have any fight left in her at all, still too broken up by Imogen's choice.

"Then why did she choose him, over …" her voice broke in midsentence and she sighed, shutting her eyes a moment, "I _know_ that you know …"

"I don't know anything-"

Constance glared at her.

"Honestly, I don't! She hasn't told me anything … except …"

"Except?" Constance repeated, her anger beginning to resurface.

"Except that she doesn't love Serge. She was upset. I hadn't meant to be there, I had just woken from a nap and I found her crying … she cares deeply for you, I've never seen her looking such a mess before …"

Constance kept her gaze focused on her hands, feeling even guiltier for running out on Imogen that day. She began to wish she hadn't let her leave the castle … but …

"I'm too broken, Davina. I can't care for her the way she does me."

Davina daringly reached out and grasped Constance's hand in hers, and Constance flinched initially before relaxing under the older woman's touch.

"How do you know unless you try?"

Constance considered this for a moment, but she shook her head in resolve.

"I've hurt her enough. Just let it be," Constance insisted, taking her hand way from Davina's grasp, "And you should know better than to poke your nose into other people's business!" she snapped.

"I'm sorry!" Davina pleaded, "I was only trying to help!"

The batty old witch gathered her things and headed out, presumably to fly to her destination despite the lack of sunglasses.

"Wait," Constance called, and summoned her own pair of sunglasses into her hand, the same sunglasses that Imogen had given her the last time she returned from break.

She handed the glasses over to Davina, who smiled eagerly, but before she could take hold of them, Constance held them back a second, "I'll be wanting these back, understood?"

Davina nodded in assurance, and Constance handed them over.

"Thank you, Constance! And might I add-"

"Don't."

"I was just going to say … I hope things get sorted out between you and Imogen."

Constance nodded, tight-lipped, "Thank you, Davina."

And she watched out the staffroom window as her colleague ascended into the clouds, taking with her the one material object she had to remind her of her lost love.

She breathed a sigh of relief, and disappeared off to the library with her tea to immerse herself in books for the rest of the summer in a vain attempt to escape any and all thoughts of one Imogen Drill.

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><p><strong>(AN)**- Please review! Next chapter is 'Old Hats and New Brooms'!


	26. Old Qualms and New Beginnings

**(A/N)**- Thank you soso much for reviewing, everyone! Srsly keep doing it bc I have a job now - it's part time in retail, so I don't get many shifts, but because I finally have some kind of duty other than daily tasks, I feel compelled to work on my writing whenever I have free time, so the updates are likely to happen a lot quicker from here on in! ;p I know I can't promise anything, but in any case if stuff's not being posted, it's being worked on! I planned this thing out at least 4 times before settling on it, and I owe a lot to **typicalRAinbow** for letting me bounce ideas off of her and offering suggestions! This chapter wouldn't be here if not for her bc this episode was driving me bonkers! Okay so enjoy! :D This is written for the episode '_Old Hats and New Brooms'_

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><p><strong>- Old Qualms and New Beginnings-<strong>

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><p>Miss Gimlet, who had been simply a class tutor and counselor for the second years for the past ten years or so, had suddenly disappeared off to the Inner Hebrides, leaving the position of class tutor up for grabs.<p>

"Who is to be the replacement second year tutor, Miss Cackle? We need a clear, firm decision here and now."

Miss Cackle looked sheepishly between her two candidates, Miss Drill and Miss Bat, who looked down at her with wide, expectant eyes like small children at Christmastime.

"Well, it is a rather tough decision to make … what do you think, Miss Hardbroom?"

"Oh, don't look at me. I have no part in this," Miss Hardbroom said matter-of-factly, rather amused at the situation.

"Isn't it obvious?" Imogen asked incredulously, "Miss Bat's been given a chance already; it's high time I was put in charge of something other than my classes."

"I deserve a second chance!" Davina declared, "I've more experience than you _and_ I'm a witch to boot."

"Low blow, Davina," Constance reprimanded as she poured the tea for her colleagues.

"I thought you were having no part in this!" Davina shrilled as Imogen looked to her shoes in embarrassment, "Are you really going to side with the woman who rode her bike through the school this morning?"

"_Really_?" Constance asked incredulously, "As opposed to the witch who rode her broomstick through the corridors just minutes ago?"

"All right, Constance," Amelia soothed, "I've made a decision – now don't look at me like that!" she chided when Davina started to make puppy-dog eyes, "I've decided that for the time being, both of you should share the position of class tutor."

"Do you really think that's appropriate?" Constance asked uncertainly.

"Are you questioning my authority, Constance?" Amelia replied smoothly.

The deputy head sighed deeply, "Of course not, headmistress."

"Well then, let us have our tea and biscuits while the girls get settled, and Imogen - you and Davina can deliver the news to the second year girls together."

Constance sighed in exasperation at the prospect of how that might turn out, but made no comment. Davina tapped her on the shoulder, and she turned as the batty old witch handed over the sunglasses she had let her borrow, thanking her quietly.

Imogen watched, feeling rather hurt that Constance had so carelessly allowed the chanting mistress to borrow the sunglasses that she had meant for Constance to have … but she had no right to feel hurt. After all, Constance had the right to give them to whomever she wanted.

They locked eyes for a moment as Constance went to sit, but no words were exchanged.

Imogen, having nowhere else to sit, sat beside Constance, who tensed up at the sudden closeness of her colleague. Imogen noticed, but pretended not to, making sure to keep her knees turned so she didn't accidentally brush against her.

"So, Imogen, how was summer camp?" Davina asked politely, trying to be civil with her despite the current rivalry that had been unintentionally proposed between them.

"It was lovely, thank you," Imogen replied with a smile, "So nice to be teaching children without having to sort out grades in the end."

"And how is your boyfriend, Mr. Dubois?"

Imogen bit her lip, stirring her tea absentmindedly with her spoon, "He's … fine … he was rather busy most of the summer, so I didn't get to see him much …"

She could feel Constance's eyes burning into her as she stared down at her plate. She knew that Constance knew. When she had mentioned working at summer camp just moments ago, she failed to insert the words 'my boyfriend's' and she had done so on purpose, because she knew that without saying it, Constance would know that they'd broken up. This was because Imogen didn't know how to bring it up without saying it outright, and she knew that Constance wouldn't miss that little detail … however, now she found herself not wanting to face the fact in light of this new position having opened up. She didn't want to appear pitiful in Amelia's eyes. And she really didn't want to get into detail, not in front of Constance.

Luckily for her, Constance quickly changed the subject, "Did you all get the memo about Ethel Hallow?"

And immediately they all began to buzz with questions and comments regarding why a girl so young would even think about getting a magical makeover and how her father could ever allow such a thing.

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><p>Imogen spent most of the first day back trying to one-up Davina's extracurricular activities. The pair of them took turns with the girls and spent more time with them than form tutors usually would, in an attempt to show what they were capable of to Miss Cackle. This, however, only made the girls cross with them and there was a lot more moaning and groaning than usual. Imogen felt bad for making them go through this, and she herself was becoming rather exhausted. The following day, she put on her grey pantsuit – the same clothes she had worn initially to job interviews, including the interview she had for her current job. It was her only pair of professional clothing, and she hoped that it might leave a lasting impression on Miss Cackle. After all, presenting herself in it did get her the sports mistress job, even if she did wear casual clothes for most of the year.<p>

It was, however, very stifling to wear, especially outdoors, for the castle hallways were always quite chilly even during the daytime hours. She was determined to suffer to keep up appearances, for once in her life.

Fortunately, this morning was nice and brisk, so she wasn't uncomfortable at all. In fact she was probably better off than her girls, who were all shivering a bit in their t-shirts and shorts.

"Come on now, girls!" she called out, "Five laps around the courtyard to wake your selves up, and then it's off to the sports shed to fetch the volleyballs.

She had just finished setting up the nets in the center of the yard, and she breathed a sigh of relief before retreating back to the shadows of the castle, determined to keep out of the sun as much as possible whilst she wore this thick suit.

She heard shouting and yelling from inside the castle – undoubtedly Miss Bat's first chanting class of the day. It was the first year girls, obviously, for they were all off-key and they probably weren't even sure of exactly what they were even saying. They sounded like children yelling in a courtyard, which is probably why Constance Hardbroom came storming out of the building at the very next moment.

"Miss Drill!" Constance shouted, stopping in her steps, momentarily taken aback by the blonde's professional garb this morning, "Would you please control your class! Miss Cackle and I—"

The taller woman looked about the courtyard at the third year girls, who were jogging silently on their fourth lap or so, and she shut her lips.

"Oh … I'm sorry … I could've sworn it was coming from out here …" she said, looking embarrassed.

"It's fine," Imogen assured with a reassuring smile as yells began to erupt from inside the castle again, "It's Davina's class."

She groaned in annoyance as she turned to leave, "I should've known. If you'll excuse me …"

Davina hit some high notes, and Imogen heard the sound of slate sliding against slate, and the next thing she knew, Constance had snatched her by the shoulders and pulled her aside, halfway against the wall of the castle as six slate tiles fell from the rooftop and hit the courtyard cobblestone, shattering into dust.

Heart hammering in her chest, Imogen looked up from the debris to meet Constance's brown eyes, which in turn fixed on hers. Imogen was too dazed to do or say anything, not even to thank her. It was such a close call … she was still trying to process what had just happened.

Constance seemed to think nothing of it as she quickly released her, stepping away as she grumbled under her breath.

"I've had it up to _here_ with that woman …"

She turned before going back inside, pointing towards the girls, "Keep the girls away from the castle lest any more fall."

Imogen watched after her, absentmindedly waving her hand towards her pupils, "Girls …" she managed before shaking her head dazedly and clapping her hands, "Volleyball's cancelled for today, we're going for a walk in the forest instead."

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><p>After the fights that occurred between the first and second years regarding jewelry and other objects not typically allowed at Cackle's Academy, Miss Cackle had finally decided that Miss Hardbroom would be assigned form tutor to the second years, and that Miss Bat and Miss Drill would tutor the first years for half a term each. Miss Bat was to start immediately for the first half, unfortunately. She was in Miss Cackle's office, going over the class list. Miss Drill wanted to be there too, as she would be taking it over for Miss Bat in the middle of the term, but Miss Bat began to get shrill and started assuming that Miss Drill was trying to take over early, and so for the sake of Amelia's ears as well as her own, she exited the headmistress's office and retreated to the staffroom.<p>

She opened the door to find Miss Hardbroom sitting amidst a pile of manila folders and paperwork, looking rather busy as she scribbled some notes and filed them away neatly. She looked up as Imogen entered, raising a skeptical brow.

"Aren't you supposed to be in Miss Cackle's office learning the ropes?"

"Davina had a hissy fit about my being there, so I left," Imogen explained, sitting at the end of the table at a safe distance from the witch's papers as she poured herself a cup of tea.

Constance sighed as she filled out some more paperwork, shaking her head, "You really should get back in there. You're only delaying the inevitable, once your turn to tutor them comes around you won't be properly prepared for it."

"I'm sure I can handle assigning extra-curricular activities and the occasional counseling." Imogen replied confidently.

"That's only half of it," Constance replied, suppressing an amused smirk.

"Really?" Imogen asked, confused, "Well … what's the other half?"

"You also need to keep an eye on the girls' grades, see where they need help, see that they attend study hours, offer counseling if needed, contact their parents if it gets to that … You will be required to have advisement with each of them separately at the end of each month. You would also have the duty of random room inspections as well as a mandatory one at the end of each month; see that the girls are keeping their rooms tidy."

Imogen looked a little blown away by all of this responsibility, but she sipped her tea instead, pretending to be nonchalant and keeping a straight face when it burned her lips, "Do you really think Davina is capable of all this?"

"Oh, I know for a fact that she isn't which is why you should be in Miss Cackle's office, going over what needs to be done. It is more than likely that you will have to take over sooner than you think." She replied seriously, "I give it a week."

"So much for supporting your fellow colleagues," Imogen remarked, folding her arms.

"It's nothing personal," Constance insisted, "Davina is who she is, and we all know her anxieties can't handle it."

"Then why did Miss Cackle—"

"Davina needs to be included. She's been given another chance; in the very least we could say that we tried."

Imogen nodded, looking to the table as Constance continued with her work, the only sound in the room was the scratching of her feather quill as she wrote. The sports mistress blew on her tea to cool it down as she leaned forward a bit, trying to make out what Constance was filling out from all the way across the table.

Constance noticed her peeping, and stopped, staring straight ahead for a moment, and closing her eyes with a sigh before looking over at the blonde.

"What is it _now_?" she asked exasperatedly.

"Nothing," Imogen replied innocently, sitting back in her chair.

Constance exhaled sharply, and patted the seat beside her with a roll of her eyes, "_Come here_."

Imogen smirked, and (probably too eagerly) sat down beside the witch and listened intently as Constance went over the papers with her.

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><p><strong>(AN)**- So? What did you think? :D reviews please! Next is going straight into '_Alarms and Diversions'_


	27. Caught

**(A/N)**- apologies for the long delay - working in retail has killed the muse and i'm trying to ressurect her! thank you all for the wonderful reviews, and forgive me if this gets pulled and fixed bc i had it lying around for so long but i've only just decided to post it after 3am so my judgement may not be so great. tried to avoid drama bc the whole fic is just too much drama but it's damn near impossible with these two. oh well. ENJOY?

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><p><strong>- Caught -<strong>

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><p><em>"Aww, so nice to see the two of you together again!"<em>

_ "Ah yes … wait, together again? What do you mean by that?"_

Miss Bat and Miss Cackle had walked in on the two teachers, sitting close to one another as they poured over the students' files. At Davina's words, they both looked to one another and realized their closeness, practically jumping apart.

Imogen covered for Constance, saying that Davina only meant it was nice to see them getting along, as she and Constance had fought before the summer break. Constance, on the other hand, practically fled from the room with the excuse that she had to sort the potions cupboard.

Constance couldn't hide her embarrassment from Miss Cackle, and when they had their daily report later on that day, she asked her about it.

"It's nothing, Miss Cackle. It's just as Imo—Miss Drill had said … we had a quarrel."

"What sort of quarrel?"

Constance shut her eyes with a sigh, and replied as automatically as possible, "Nothing more than the usual, headmistress. We had a disagreement over the importance of sports and things of the like. But there's no use dredging up the past. We've reconciled."

"Good to hear," Amelia replied with a nod, and did not press her further.

Later on, however, Constance found herself cornering Imogen by the staircase after she sent the girls off to bed.

"What did you tell Miss Bat?" she hissed, eyes wild.

"_Nothing_!" Imogen said under her breath back, "Constance, I _swear_-"

"I am your superior," she reminded, her voice more audible now, "You will address me as 'Miss Hardbroom' from now on, and if I catch you telling lies to Davina, or _anyone_ else, ever again –"

In the next moment, Miss Cackle exited her office, offering a warm smile to the pair, "Good evening, ladies. Have the girls been sent to their rooms?"

"Yes, Miss Cackle," the two chorused, much to their annoyance but they did their best to hide it.

"Very good, and who has lights out tonight?"

"I do, Miss Cackle," Imogen replied politely, "I'll see to them now."

Constance watched the non-witch as she ascended the stairs, half-tempted to go after her and finish her tirade in private, but when the non-witch glanced back at her when she reached the top, her eyes glassy with tears … Constance's heart broke, and she looked away.

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><p>Constance awoke early as usual, being careful to avoid Imogen as she set off for her morning run. What she couldn't avoid, however, was crossing paths with her on the way to the mailbox.<p>

"It's fine, I'll take care of it," Imogen assured, but Constance continued on her way down the gravel path.

"Cons-" the witch eyed her dangerously, and Imogen corrected herself, "Miss Hardbroom … I usually take it in, really it's no bother …"

"I'll see to it. Why don't you head back and wake the girls?"

Imogen looked like she'd rather not, but she nodded anyway, "Okay."

She set off just as Constance reached the mailbox and retrieved the mail, glancing over the contents briefly before heading back to the castle … when suddenly a familiar name caught her eye.

_Serge Dubois_.

She suddenly lost her footing and her heel caught on the tiny rocks, causing her to stumble to the ground, sending the letters flying into the air and all around her.

"_Constance_!" Imogen called out, forgetting herself as she rushed over to help the older woman to her feet, but she flinched away from her.

"_Don't_," she said pointedly, as she struggled to regain her footing, only to slip again, embarrassing herself further.

Imogen shakily offered her hand out towards her, and Constance had half a mind to slap it away, but instead she gripped it, and the surprisingly strong non-witch easily pulled her to her feet.

Constance couldn't meet her eyes as she muttered a thank you, straightening out her dress. Imogen quickly retrieved the mail, letter by letter.

"This gravel's dangerous. I've slipped on it myself once or twice." Imogen said, perhaps in an attempt to make her feel less pitiful.

The blonde stopped when she caught sight of Serge's letter, and Constance watched her as she pretended to still be brushing the dust off of her dress. She studied the younger woman's face as she stared down thoughtfully at the letter.

Imogen eventually let out a huff and stuck it in the waistband of her jogging pants, "This one's mine," she said in a breath, and handed the rest over to the deputy headmistress with a reproachful smile.

"Are you okay?" she asked cautiously, almost afraid to hear her answer.

Constance would've snapped at her, had it been yesterday, but her anger dissipated somewhat since then … perhaps it was the sight of Imogen's ex-boyfriend's name that brought her to her senses … in any case, she decided not to push her away this time. After all, it wasn't like they had an audience or anything to witness any kindness shared between them.

"I'm fine, thank you," she said quietly, the smallest flicker of a grateful smile visible on her stony face before she made the trek back up towards the castle, being careful to mind her footing as she went. She couldn't help but notice how although the non-witch kept a safe distance from her, she also kept a watchful eye lest she stumbled again … and she couldn't help but smile to herself.

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><p>Constance had to see to breakfast after handing the mail over to Amelia, leaving just as Imogen began to open her letter from Serge and she heard Amelia ask who it was from. Shutting her eyes tight, she took a breath as she shut the door and marched off down the hallway to see to her duties, business as usual. She vowed not to worry herself with thoughts of the non-witch, but she couldn't help but feel that the one chance she had to make amends had slipped away from her.<p>

_"And at the end of each month I usually add up the overall grade point average, just to save time by the end of term …"_

_ "Mmm …" Imogen nodded in agreement as she looked over the papers. Her hand casually rested beside hers on the table, their shoulders touching but neither of them seemed bothered by it at all, appearing not to have noticed. She could smell the younger woman's light perfume, and she longed to lean in closer … her innermost desires became obvious when her fingers involuntarily twitched, almost taking the non-witch's hand in hers._

_Imogen sighed gently, appearing not to notice as she gazed down at the papers, propping her head up with her other hand. She casually gestured to the bottom of the page, her hand brushing Constance's as she did so, sending a pleasant chill up the witch's spine._

_ "So you have to get Miss Cackle's signature then, for every pupil? Does she want them by end of term or monthly?"_

_ Constance struggled to keep her composure, licking her lips lightly as she replied, "E-every month, but sometimes she's far too busy for it, so she'll take it at the end of term, unless it's grades to be distributed to the students."_

_ Imogen nodded, "Right," and returned her hand to its place beside Constance, closer this time, and her pinky finger covered hers. Constance took a dare, and wrapped her finger gently around hers, causing the non-witch to look up at her questioningly._

_ Constance couldn't bring herself to meet her gaze, and instead just stared at their intertwined fingers, her breaths coming in shallow._

_ "Cons—" Imogen began, but was cut off as Amelia and Davina bustled into the room. The two were in such shock that they didn't move until Davina made a comment about them being 'back together'._

Imogen hadn't made an attempt to speak to her again after they were interrupted, and Constance was almost certain that whatever Imogen had to say can't have been something good, so she let it be. She decided that this letter from Serge would determine where they stood in terms of any possibility of a future together … and yet what could she possibly offer the non-witch if she were to choose her over the forest ranger?

Constance sighed deeply, clapping her hands together twice and instructing the girls to take their dirty dishes up to the cart and proceed to their morning classes.

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><p>Amelia saw to lunch later that day, so Constance grabbed one of her books on potions and headed off to the staffroom, wanting to be within proximity of the non-witch without appearing as if she was unoccupied and ready for conversation.<p>

She came into the room to find Davina standing there, trying hard to decipher a crumpled piece of paper.

"That better not be what I think it is!" Constance warned.

Her eyes fell to the floor and her suspicions were confirmed when she recognized the envelope from Serge.

"Davina, _drop it_."

"Oh, Constance, don't you want to know what it says?" Davina asked incredulously.

"Oh _indeed_ I do," Constance replied sarcastically, "Give it here, I'll read it aloud,"

Davina gleefully handed it over and Constance zapped it out of her hands, reducing it to cinders.

"Why'd you do that for?" Davina protested angrily, "You could've set me ablaze!"

"You should know better than to pry!"

"What's going on?"

They turned to see Imogen standing in the doorway, looking between the two. It wasn't long before she saw the envelope on the carpet.

"You read my mail?" she asked calmly, arms folded as she looked back at the two, her steely gaze lingering for far longer on the potions mistress than it did Davina.

Constance pointed a finger in accusation at the chanting mistress, feeling like a child who just got caught after breaking a priceless vase, "Miss Bat did it!" she exclaimed, and in the blink of an eye the terror of being accused of doing something she didn't do vanished, and she turned the blame Imogen, "I only reduced the letter to smithereens, something you should've done in the first place!"

"I'll take note of that for any letters I might receive in the future, seeing as I can't trust that my own colleagues won't read any behind my back," she seethed with a heavy sigh, "Really, all you had to do was ask."

She snatched her water bottle off of the staffroom table and left without another word nor glance.

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><p><strong>(AN)**- review? sorry drama :P


	28. At Ease

**(A/N)- **I'm sorry it's been ages! Work has me only wanting to lie around and watch Netflix like a zombie whenever I'm off. And it sucks. Thanks for all the reviews! Enjoy!/?

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><p><strong>- At Ease -<strong>

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><p>Constance avoided Imogen like the plague since that letter incident. Davina wound up doing the same after she asked if Imogen would like a fresh cup of tea and the sports mistress had shot her a sour look. And Amelia, too busy worrying about this new alarm system, didn't appear to have noticed any changes in the behavior of her staff.<p>

At least, that's what Constance Hardbroom had assumed …

The moment the two of them were alone, going over some of the day-to-day operations, Miss Cackle brought it up.

"So what's with the sudden tension between you and Miss Drill?"

Constance would've choked on her tea had she been drinking any. Her face flushed, and she struggled to look indifferent.

"T-tension?" she asked, stammering despite herself, "How do you mean?"

"Well, I know you and Miss Bat have never seen eye-to-eye, but last I heard, you and Imogen had both reconciled quite recently."

"And so we did." Constance replied curtly.

"Then why didn't you wish her good morning when she entered the room?"

"Didn't I?" Constance asked in fake surprise.

"You also ignored her when she asked you to pass the sugar."

"I must have been distracted."

"Constance …"

"Really, Miss Cackle, there is nothing going on be-… I mean, that is to say, we're not arguing currently. Actually, I was just going to suggest to you that, given the current situation, Miss Bat and Miss Drill should split responsibilities for the first years."

"What situation?"

"This whole alarm system thing; you know how Davina gets around loud noises and in a time of crisis. Should we really risk her having a full blown panic attack?"

"Imogen can see to them if Davina proves she's not fit to cope with it."

"But why not just-"

"Constance, you know how Davina gets when she's had a responsibility taken from her. Remember when you took the greenhouse from her?"

"Yes, well I wouldn't have had to take it from her had she not decided to take my plants, along with the rest of the school's, out for a walk and then forget where she left them!"

"She'll be in the cupboard for weeks on end if we don't give her another chance."

Constance sighed heavily, "Very well, headmistress … in a tree, Miss Cackle. My plants were in a _tree_." She reminded before exiting.

* * *

><p>"FIRE! EARTHQUAKE! VOLCANO! FLOODING!"<p>

"Miss Bat!"

"TIDAL WAVE! METEOR!"

"MISS BAT! MISS BAT! IT'S ALRIGHT!"

Miss Bat crumpled into an inconsolable ball on the floor on account of all the commotion that was occurring on account of the emergency alarm. Miss Hardbroom's shouting did nothing to help the situation either. But she acted quickly, instructing Miss Drill, who had arrived promptly on the scene, to take the first years back to Miss Bat's classroom.

"Alright girls, back to your classes, do as Miss Drill says!"

Constance sent the other wayward students who didn't have classes up to their rooms before returning to Miss Cackle's side, eying the out-of-breath chanting mistress.

"Has she settled down yet?"

Davina cut her a nasty look amidst her huffing and puffing.

"She asked for Imogen. Could you go and fetch her?"

"I'm right here, Miss Cackle." Imogen called, practically knocking Constance aside as she rushed past.

"Deep breaths, Davina," Imogen soothed as she sat beside her, guiding her through it, instructing her to breathe in deep, hold it a moment, and then release, over and over. Constance couldn't refrain from scowling, envious that Imogen had forgiven Davina so quickly. She also supposed Davina was unaware that Imogen had just taken over her class for her, in her predicament.

The alarm continued to blare, and Imogen urged Davina to her feet, allowing Amelia to take her to her office to rest.

"You can send the first years to their rooms with the rest of the girls," Constance instructed, "It doesn't look like Davina will be ready to return to class anytime soon."

Imogen nodded, "Yes, Miss Hardbroom," she replied dutifully.

"You're going to make an excellent form tutor, Miss Drill," Constance complimented, inwardly kicking herself afterwards, and she took off to her potions lab without seeing her reaction to those words.

"Thank you, Miss Hardbroom," she replied, sounding somewhat amused, and Constance blushed to herself as the alarm ceased, and the voices of her punished second years carried through the hall from the kitchen stairwell. She sighed in annoyance, and turned around to go and berate them for abandoning their duties.

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><p>After she told them off, she headed back towards the staffroom to find Miss Drill standing there in the hallway, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed in judgement.<p>

"They were just following protocol," Imogen commented, having heard the discussion from down the hallway.

"They were being cheeky. They were given specific orders not to leave the kitchen –"

"And if there _was_ an emergency?"

Constance opened her mouth to protest, but she was rendered speechless until she realized, "The alarm wouldn't have stopped had it been a real emergency."

"Point taken, but how were they to know otherwise?"

"Did you wait up just to argue with me?"

Constance looked to the non-witch, who had blushed, looking away. Constance sighed, stepping into the staffroom, and Imogen followed suit. Had Constance remembered that Miss Cackle had taken Miss Bat to her office, and that the staffroom was empty, leaving her and Imogen together alone, she would've gone off to the potions lab instead.

Imogen shut the door behind them, and Constance folded her arms in an attempt to disappear, but Imogen grabbed her.

"Don't." she insisted, "Please don't …"

Constance watched her a moment before relenting with a sigh, dropping her arms to her sides.

"Miss Bat told me what happened … with the letter …"

Constance's gaze fell to the floor, "I shouldn't have shouted at you … it's just that Davina can be so nosey sometimes … I was more upset with her than anything. It was misdirected anger."

"Nothing to do with Serge, then?"

Constance tensed, looking away, "That's entirely none of my business whatsoever …"

"No, it isn't … but I want you to know … we broke up."

Constance had to stifle the breath of relief at those three words, yet she could not bring herself to look at her, nor could she find the right words to respond with.

"I did go to summer camp with him though. He insisted I go; we barely saw each other as it was … anyway, that letter, he suggested that we try again …"

"Why are you telling me this?" Constance asked in annoyance, not being able to shake off the image of the pair of them spending the summer together.

"Because I told him I wasn't over you."

Constance's eyes widened, and she looked to Imogen as if she were mad.

"I didn't name you, don't worry. I just said I was still smitten with someone else."

Constance pretended not to hear that last bit, "Why did you lie? When the others asked-"

"I didn't want them to fuss over me or ask questions … I'd been single since I started working here – I don't know, I guess I didn't want them to think something was wrong with me …"

Constance rolled her eyes, "Are you forgetting that they're both spinsters themselves? I hardly think that they would judge you."

Imogen blushed with a small laugh, "Suppose you're right,"

As if on cue, the two witches burst into the room, Amelia carrying a cheesecake with a much more pleasant-looking Davina in tow. They offered Imogen some cake, and didn't bother to ask Constance for they knew what her response would be. Imogen politely declined while Constance slipped away without a word. Imogen caught sight of her just before she disappeared, and was half-tempted to follow after her, but her feet remained glued to the floor.

"_Give it time_," she mumbled to herself, feeling ridiculous for wanting so much to be with Constance again after having just gotten out of a relationship, albeit a very short-lived one. She smiled and accepted a cup of tea from Davina as she sat down at the table with a relaxed sigh, finally feeling at ease with herself for the first time in months.

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><p><strong>(AN)**- I'm not happy with the ending but oh well this chapter has been bugging me - next chapter will be better hopefully! Please review I need fueling I suck so much lately in regards to creative outlets! x_x


	29. The Welcome Touch

**(A/N)**- The second half of this I almost lost and I almost died tonight because ... well, you'll see. This one's a bit longer than all the other chapters and I got really invested in it and I just feel like the soul was sucked out of me you know no big deal haha. Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed really it means the world to me!

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><p><strong>-The Welcome Touch-<strong>

* * *

><p>Miss Cackle arranged an emergency drill for the girls that following morning. It was unannounced, but the girls had been warned that it would happen. Miss Hardbroom was to enact a scene with smoke (magic smoke) simulating a real fire. She'd never been one for theatrics (and her fellow staff bit back laughter when she said that) but apparently her acting had been too real, for Mildred Hubble mistook it to be a real emergency situation, and flew out the window on her broomstick, dropping a pail of ice cold water directly on the deputy headmistress's head.<p>

With Ethel's cloak draped around her shoulders, she retreated into the castle with her face to the ground, ignoring the muffled laughter that came from the girls as well as the staff. She didn't care so much that they were laughing at her predicament – what really irked her was that Imogen had her hand to her mouth as she bit back her laughter as well.

Constance sighed, throwing the cloak down on one of the sinks as she stared at herself in the mirror. Gripping the porcelain, she noticed her eyeliner had begun to run. She let out a heavy sigh, and reached for a paper towel.

The lavatory door flew open, momentarily startling her until she realized it was Imogen, and she relaxed … until she remembered.

"I see you've finally stopped laughing then."

Imogen's eyes were wide with concern, and her gaze dropped, handing her a fresh clean towel. Constance snatched it from her irritably, but managed to reply with a soft, "Thank you."

"I'm sorry. I couldn't help it … It _was_ rather silly …"

"I didn't laugh when you ran your face into the door that time."

"You mean when you opened the door on my face," Imogen corrected under her breath.

"Did you follow me in here just to fight with me?"

Imogen watched her guiltily through the mirror as the witch wiped away her smudged makeup and began to reapply it, magicking up her eyeliner pen and lipstick, leaving the towel on top of Ethel's cloak.

Her shoulders were still soaked through and through.

Imogen grabbed up the towel and caught the witch off guard when she threw it around her shoulders and rubbed her cold, damp body through the terrycloth.

Constance's face flushed, and she looked down at her makeup, pretending to be preoccupied as she remarked, "I was going to use magick for that."

"Now you don't need to," Imogen replied matter-of-factly, "Can't have you drenched in this castle, you'll catch your death."

Constance glanced at her as she carefully traced around her eyes, relaxing under the non-witch's tender caresses.

"That girl is out of control." Constance said, wanting to fill the awkward silence with a change in topic.

"She was only concerned about your safety."

"It was _pretend_!"

"Well, obviously she didn't know that."

"I made the announcement in assembly-"

"Why can't you face the fact that despite the amount of grief you give us we still care about you? She made a mistake."

Constance blushed, pretending not to have heard that statement as she grumbled, "She always makes mistakes."

Imogen sighed, whipping the towel off of the witch and causing her to flinch at the sudden chill, nearly making her mess up her burgundy lipstick.

"You did that on purpose," she grumbled, capping her lipstick and magicking her cosmetics away.

"Did what?" Imogen asked airily, having been momentarily distracted by the way the witch put on her lipstick just before.

"It's _freezing_," Constance snapped, snatching at the towel, but Imogen held it back, raising a playful brow.

"Thought you had magick for that."

Constance sighed, "Fine," and she lifted her hand to cast a spell, but Imogen caught her wrist gently.

Constance stared into her green eyes, "Remember what I told you …" she said, referring to the last time Imogen grabbed her in the middle of spell-casting, on the night when they'd first started to notice one another more, when Constance had tried to fix up her hair.

"An unwelcome touch can cause the magick to backfire and harm me, yeah …" she said in one breath and sighed with a mischievous little grin, "Well, I'm unharmed so I'd have to say the touch was welcome."

Constance blushed, feeling almost foolishly ashamed of herself as the blonde wrapped the towel back around her shoulders, squeezing her upper arms softly and briefly before she finally let them drop back to her sides, looking away as she tried to hide a smile.

Clearing her throat, Imogen thumbed over her shoulder towards the door, "I should see what the others are up to; they'll wonder where we're at …"

"Right, you're right …" Constance replied, feeling flustered, "Well … thank you, Imogen …" she offered meekly, managing a small smile.

Imogen grinned back, "You're most welcome, Constance."

* * *

><p>Imogen returned to the staffroom only to have Davina tell her off for taking charge in a time of crisis and for not thinking that handling the girls during a drill proved that the batty witch was capable of handling them in a real emergency.<p>

And then it happened.

A tornado ripped through the first year corridor, putting the entire student body in danger as it grew and spiraled out of control.

Imogen and Davina were forced to work together, and they managed to put aside their squabbling and get all the girls out in time, save for Sybil who was still trapped in her bedroom, with the gust heading straight for her.

Imogen convinced Davina to get Clarice to safety and, rather foolishly, the sports mistress hurled herself at the cyclone in a vain attempt to either get it to stop or possibly overcome it and save Sybil, but it was to no avail.

Finally, with quick thinking and a stroke of luck, Mildred managed to stop the spell with fingersparks, and Sybil was saved. Mildred earned a medal for bravery, and Imogen earned a nicely colored bruise that had begun to swell up in the middle of her back and shoulder blade.

She hissed in pain as she touched it, looking at it through the mirror. She could tell it was going to be pretty bad, even in just the light from the lantern. The sudden intake of breath caused her back to ache even more, and she guessed she might've hurt her ribs in the fall.

"Miss Drill, is everything all right?"

Imogen quickly pulled her shirt back down just in time as Constance entered the lavatory, the same lavatory that they had shared a small moment in earlier that day.

"I'm fine," she replied, a bit flushed from having almost been caught with her shirt up, "Just a bruise, that's all."

Constance raised a brow in skepticism, folding her arms across her chest, "Mildred tells me you threw yourself at the tornado."

Imogen blushed, looking down in shame, "I was only trying to stop it."

"With your body?" she asked, somewhat amused.

Imogen sighed, shaking her head, "It was stupid, alright? I'm just tired of being useless."

The witch stepped towards her, heels echoing on the tile floor, and her heart was hammering in her chest, so loud she could feel it in her ears, until suddenly it occurred to her.

"Why weren't you there?"

She looked up at the witch, her face half concealed in darkness but she could still see the look of guilt in the golden light of her lantern which she'd left on the sink.

"You're always there …" Imogen realized, "Whenever things go wrong, you're always first to show up but you weren't there and … and you're not even dressed in your nightclothes …" she realized in mid-sentence.

She looked up into the witch's brown eyes, which were black in the darkness, and she stared back at her, her breathing coming in shallow.

"Are you doing all right?" Imogen asked quietly in almost a murmur, genuinely concerned about the witch. She searched her eyes for an answer but found her more difficult to read than usual being half-cloaked in darkness.

"I'm fine," Constance replied after allowing too much time to pass for her answer to be believed, "I was just getting ready for tomorrow's classes, that's all."

Imogen nodded vaguely, looking to her feet as the brunette cleared her throat.

"Now, where's this bruise of yours?"

Imogen felt her face flush with heat and was grateful that it wouldn't be so obvious in the dim light of the room.

"I mean … so I know where to cast the spell. You won't have to remove your clothes …" Constance trailed off quietly with that last sentence and looked away. Even in the darkness, Imogen could see that her pale skin had turned a deep shade of red.

"What sort of spell?" Imogen asked, trying hard not to think about the older woman's hands touching her bare skin.

"Just a spell to ease the pain," she explained, regaining composure, "It'll help it to heal faster as well."

Hands trembling slightly from nervousness and excitement, Imogen found herself boldly hiking up the hem of her shirt, exposing her tanned skin to the cold air of the castle once more.

Constance averted her gaze politely, to which Imogen said, "It's only on my back, Cons."

The witch shyly looked back towards her, and Imogen turned around so that Constance could see the extent of her injuries. At the sight of the purple-greenish tinge, she breathed in sharply through her teeth and reached out to touch it.

"May I?"

Imogen nodded, granting permission, and the witch's fingers tenderly grazed across her skin. The simple touch, which she would've welcomed and enjoyed in any other circumstance, caused a sharp pain to run through her and she grimaced, stifling a groan.

"Sorry," Constance quickly apologized, and gently placed her palm in the middle of her back, just a little bit away from the bruise, and sent the magic coursing through her body, sending pleasant shivers down her spine.

"There," Constance said, proud of her handiwork, "That should be enough."

Imogen let her shirt fall back down and turned to face her, "Is it?" she asked, absentmindedly, not really having meant to say that aloud. She found herself looking up into her brown eyes, and she smiled wistfully, "Thank you."

"Anytime," Constance replied softly, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth, which Imogen found herself leaning up to kiss.

It was a brief kiss, and she stayed about a hair's length away afterward, waiting for a response to this possibly unwanted contact. Her green eyes flicked upwards to meet brown, and the witch gazed lustfully back, kissing her fully on the mouth. Hands snaked around the sports mistress's waist where they had been previous, tracing trails along her skin that sent waves of pleasure throughout her body in ways she had never experienced before. Imogen's hands circled the witch's waist in return, grasping at the black fabric, longing to feel the porcelain skin underneath … and then …

Constance broke the kiss, breathing heavily as she leaned her forehead against hers, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I can't …"

"Why not?" Imogen asked, voice tinged with hurt.

"I mean, it's not that I don't want to; I just … I need more time. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry …"

Imogen cupped her face and nodded against her, stroking her cheek gently with her thumb, "Okay. Okay. It's alright …"

Constance, amidst her shame, finally found the courage to meet Imogen's eyes, and she repeated shakily.

"It's not that I don't want to. I want to. I just need time. I can't … it's just …"

"You don't have to explain," Imogen assured, "I understand."

Constance stared back at her, eyes glossing over with tears as she nodded, taking a deep breath.

They stood in silence, holding one another until the lantern started to go out, and they went to their separate rooms without another word.

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><p><strong>(AN)**- *hides* review?


	30. Either Way

**(A/N)**- 30TH CHAPTER WOOOO! and 143 reviews too! :D This chapter is dedicated to **typicalRAinbow**, who needed an incentive to finish her paper and I promised to finish this as an incentive, and in keeping this promise I had an incentive to actually get it done since it was halfway finished and just hanging there like a dark cloud and I couldn't stop kicking myself every night for not getting it done! ALSO thank you everyone for your reviews I never expected people to like this fic as much as they do and I plan to see it through till the end! even if it takes me another year or so, but let's hope it doesn't!

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><p><strong>-Either Way-<strong>

* * *

><p>Constance hummed the school song to herself as she exited the staffroom, her tote bag with the school logo on it hanging from her arm as she looked over her lesson plans for the day.<p>

She was in high spirits despite her little breakdown about a week ago. Imogen didn't seem to have taken Constance's response personally, for she greeted her with a smile the following morning and offered to pour her a cup of tea.

They arranged to have tea in the sports shed at least once a day when they were both free. It gave them some time to be alone together, but it wasn't much for they always had to worry a student would walk in on them and catch them being civil, or much more than civil … they risked being caught a couple times by passing students (the sports shed doors had been closed of course) when silence would fall between them and they would find each other staring at one another, or daring to brush a strand of hair from the other's face, or finding the other's hand as they sat on the gymnast mats …

They had attempted, once or twice, to have a proper kiss, first it was attempted by Constance and the second time by Imogen, but both times they didn't get very far at all, for the smallest noise would break them apart.

Perhaps she should ask Imogen out on a proper date, other than to the sports shed …

Despite these troubling thoughts, she was rather content with herself, finally being on much better terms with Imogen Drill and vice versa.

Amidst her humming, she felt eyes watching her, and she realized she was not alone.

A small green frog was trying to slip out of sight down the small set of steps in the hallway.

Not wanting to have an animal roaming freely around the school lest it cause trouble or get eaten by a cat, she slipped the frog into her bag and headed off to the potions classroom for her morning class.

At least, she was going to her morning class, before she came across Imogen Drill, who was heading to her class as well.

"Did you tell Miss Cackle to check the gym store?" Imogen asked, raising a brow in accusation.

"Of course not, why?"

"She told me it was a mess and assigned Mildred Hubble to help clean it out," Imogen explained, "Come now, Constance, you know Amelia never goes out there. Unless Davina lied and told her I had cheesecake hidden in the bleachers, it must've been you."

"Oh alright, yes, I did tell her. _Happy_?" Constance asked, slightly irritated, "Excuse me for not wanting to risk twisting my ankle the next time I decide to have tea with you."

"So that's what we're calling it now?" Imogen asked suggestively, and Constance blushed, pulling her bag strap up to her shoulder, completely forgetting about the creature inside until it kicked, but she ignored it.

"Mildred needs to get her head out of the clouds. I figured some manual labor might kick her into gear."

"You just had to assign her to me, didn't you?" Imogen complained, and Constance looked over her shoulder to check that no one was around as she stepped towards the little non-witch.

"Because I know you're the only one able to rise to the challenge," Constance explained in a murmur, smiling wistfully as she gazed lovingly down at the non-witch, "And don't be too put out, we'll all have to come up with punishments for her."

"Is this all really necessary?" Imogen asked, hand on her hip as she sighed in annoyance.

"There's no getting through to her, Miss Drill. At least in the end we can say we really did try everything."

Constance turned to leave, but she stopped in her tracks, feeling spontaneous, "By the way, do you have any plans for this upcoming Saturday?"

Imogen looked confused, "No, why?" and she groaned, "Don't tell me, double-duties with Mildred?"

"No, something a lot less miserable," she said, "Or, perhaps, equally as miserable. I was wondering if you might like to join me for some tea at Cosie's Cafe."

Imogen's eyebrows raised in surprise, and she let out a small amused laugh, "Constance Hardbroom, are you asking me out on a date?"

The witch's cheeks flushed a deep red, and she turned to leave, "Forget I asked," she grumbled, but the non-witch caught her wrist before she could escape and, on her tiptoes, she daringly kissed her on the cheek.

"Yes, I would like that very much," Imogen breathed against her with a smile before pulling away, leaving the witch flustered and speechless.

* * *

><p>After putting up with a frog-turned-invisible escaping and wreaking havoc on her classroom, and later having to put up with the same frog who had escaped her lab and hopped all over the halls with a determined Amelia and an over enthusiastic Imogen hot on it's trail, not to mention overcoming her fears and asking Imogen out before all this chaos, Constance had indeed enough excitement for one day.<p>

Once the frog had been chased out of the school, the conversation turned back to Mildred Hubble, who was still nowhere to be found. The decision was made to conduct a full-scale search if she was not found by tomorrow, as Constance was certain the troublesome girl was hiding out somewhere in the castle and would surely return to her bed by nightfall.

"Looks like she'll be demoted to the first year indefinitely, after pulling a stunt like this …"

"You do realize that if she's demoted, you'll be spending another year teaching her, don't you?"

Constance fell silent, eyes wide as she sat mortified at the thought of an extra year with the girl. Imogen smiled smugly as she finished her tea, having won an argument for once.

Soon after it was time for lights out, and Constance walked Imogen to her room before going about her duties.

"What if she's really run off?" Imogen asked under her breath as she passed by some of the girls in the hall who appeared troubled by the disappearance of their classmate, "I mean, she's attempted it before."

Constance walked on in silence, considering the possibility, but she soon shrugged it off, "She'll turn up. Don't worry yourself so."

They stopped just outside Imogen's bedroom, and the blonde turned to face the witch, leaning against the doorframe, "Well … goodnight then," she said with a warm smile, pushing herself of of the door to lean up for a kiss, but Constance cleared her throat, and both teachers looked down the hall to see students were still wandering about. None seemed to notice the teachers, but they decided not to take a chance.

"Goodnight, Imogen," Constance said in the most casual tone she could manage, allowing a rare smile to grace her lips before she headed off, shouting at the girls to hurry up and get into their beds.

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><p>"Imogen- <em>Imogen<em>, wake up!"

The non-witch grumbled in annoyance as she rolled over to see Constance staring down at her, eyes wide with worry.

"It's Mildred."

The non-witch sat up immediately, her hair tousled from sleep, "What's happened? Agatha-?"

"No, it's not that, she's fine, she's tucked in her bed, safe and sound."

Imogen let out a big sigh of relief, falling back onto her mattress, letting her arm fall to give the witch an insistent smack on her leg, "Don't _do_ that!"

"Imogen, I'm afraid she knows … about us."

Imogen peeked out from behind her hands, as she had been rubbing her eyes in frustration and exhaustion, "How?"

"When we spoke in the hallway, she must have overheard us talking and quite possibly might have even seen something whilst she was a frog."

Now Imogen was even more confused, "A _frog_?"

"Yes, she was turned into a frog by Ethel. Remember the one we were chasing earlier? I found the frog in the hallway just before I ran into you, and I put her in my bag. I didn't _know_, Imogen, how could I?" her voice began to rise as her anxiety increased, "She listed exactly what I had in my bag, that's how I know she was telling the truth. But she knows about us, Imogen, I'm certain of it-"

Imogen had sat up in her bed again as the witch fretted and took both hands in hers, "Constance, _calm down_ - did she mention it at all?"

"No, but she's bound to tell her friends; they're always gossiping -"

"Constance," Imogen repeated, squeezing her hands firmly, "Did she mention us at all?"

"No, no she didn't, but-"

"But _nothing_. She hasn't said anything yet. We'll worry if and when she does."

Constance nodded, taking a deep breath, watching as the non-witch's hand caressed her sleeve.

"Why aren't you in your nightclothes?" the blonde inquired in a huff.

"I had lights out."

"You've done lights out in your nightclothes before," Imogen argued gently, reaching a hand up to caress the witch's cheek, her thumb tracing the faint circles under her eyes.

"Get some sleep, Constance."

"I can't _now_," she protested in annoyance, "Not after finding out that Mildred must have overheard … what are you doing?"

Imogen had gathered the witch's sleeve in her fist and was gently pulling her as she sank back down against the mattress.

"_Sleep_," Imogen ordered with tired eyes, stifling a yawn.

"_Here_?" Constance asked incredulously, pulling out of her grasp, causing her to plop back down, "But, I … we haven't even been on a proper date yet …" she realized with a blush.

"It's just _sleep_, Cons."

The witch looked down at her hands in her lap as she thought about it, her eyes drifting towards the door.

"Or don't, if it makes you uncomfortable," Imogen grumbled against her pillow, "I'll still love you either way."

Constance felt a pleasant stirring in the pit of her stomach when she heard that word, and intwined her fingers tightly as she tried to pretend she didn't hear it as it made her flustered to think about it.

"But if you don't stay here, you gotta promise me you'll get some sleep tonight."

Constance bit her lip, looking over at the non-witch who appeared to be falling back to sleep already. She unclenched her fingers and, with a heavy sigh, she waved her fingers over herself and magickally changed into her purple long-sleeved nightgown, her hair unbound.

Imogen's eyes opened at the sound of her magic whirring, and she looked over at her in silent awe, shyly scooting aside as she lifted her covers up and let the witch slip into bed beside her.

They stared at each other a moment, Constance looking blank and rather terrified at what she had just agreed to do, that is until Imogen smiled warmly at her and snuggled back into her pillow, resuming her sleep.

Cautiously, Constance edged closer, carefully intwining her fingers with hers, watching Imogen until she relaxed enough to close her eyes and join her in sleep.

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><p><strong>(AN)-** SORRY FOR ALL TEH FLUFF! but when there's fluff, you know angst is just around the corner ;p but not quite yet. Crumpets for Tea is next. please review! it fuels me :)


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